TIS THE SEASON
by SANDEFUR
Summary: The merry season isn't always so ho-ho-ho.
1. Chapter 1

TIS THE SEASON

by

SANDEFUR

Disclaimer: This is fanfiction just for fun. I have no claims.

CHRISTMAS EVE… (12-24-07/Monday)

The sex was freakin' fantastic. Enhanced by his first experience with cocaine, just a little – he didn't want to become some sort of addict, Donald Baker's first 'three-way' was a great success. Donald slips out of the bed, careful not to disturb the two girls who are peacefully sleeping. They aren't the most attractive females he has ever seen, but their youth and enthusiasm makes up for a lot. By God, they were barely legal! Donald smiles as he puts on a warm robe and slippers. He catches sight of himself in the nearby mirror and automatically touches the scar at the center of his chest...

Four years ago Donald, or Judge Baker as he is more formally known, was shot by a parolee he was about to send back to prison for violating the terms of his parole. Forty-nine at the time, only the top physical condition he had always kept himself in gave him the strength to endure long enough to be rushed to the hospital for emergency surgery. He survived and was back in good health, but Donald was changed by his encounter with Robert Morrison, who was the one to die that fateful day back in '03. For the first time in his life, Judge Baker faced his own mortality.

Grabbing a cigar, Donald leaves the warm confines of the main cabin of his houseboat and steps outside. He shivers, but he expected the cold and doesn't plan to be outdoors for long. Lighting the cigar, Donald muses on the fact he can now cross off two more items from his 'bucket list'. In a way he owes Morrison his thanks for waking him up from the doldrums of his life. Of course Donald knew in that vague, intellectual acknowledgement sort of way that he was going to die some day, but until he was shot, the true reality of how little time we have to enjoy ourselves hadn't sunk home.

During his long recovery, Donald decided he would not go to the grave without really living his life, and now in his fifties, he knew he didn't have long to enjoy the truly…fun stuff. First order of business was to divorce his cold, distant wife of twenty years. Soul sucking harpy. Then came the list. One of those long, detailed lists of fantasy adventures and experiences that many of us indulge in with daydreams while trudging through our mundane existence. Well, no more daydreams for Donald Baker. He was going to live! Donald takes one more puff of his cigar and tosses it into the river. Time to wake the girls and try for round two. Thank God for Viagra.

Donald hears a splash. His cigar hitting the water? Ridiculous. Donald turns and stares out across the river. His houseboat is anchored near the shore in an isolated area, and at one a.m. you wouldn't expect anyone to be boating in such a remote spot… Out on the river a small speedboat drifts slowly with the current, and there are two people who can barely be seen from this distance. Protected by the shadows near the shore, Donald knows he cannot be observed, and he is glad. One of the occupants of the boat is a man wearing a ski mask, and the other one is a naked girl, even younger than the pair waiting for him inside. Donald stares, wondering what he should do. Even from here he can see the girl is shivering from the cold, and from terror. The man has a gun. Before Donald can say or do anything, the masked man forces the girl to bend over the side of the boat and he shoots her in the back of the head. The body goes over the side and Donald catches a glimpse of a chain wrapped around the girl's torso and a heavy weight attached to the chain. The body disappears into what Donald knows is the deepest part of the river, never to be found—or so the masked man assumes.

There is another small splash (Donald identifies it as an electric trolling motor going back into the water) and the boat silently accelerates downstream. Realizing he has been holding his breath, Donald gasps for air. A murder, committed right before his eyes, and he has two naked, stoned co-eds in his bed. He must contact the authorities, but there will have to be a delay while he arranges for less awkward circumstances to go with the invented story he will have to tell as to why he was on the river alone at this time of night. Maybe he was wrong. A mundane life is beginning to look very good to Donald Baker.

X X X X X

His large hands are rough and strong, but he can be gentle and skillfully coaxing as his caresses thrill her body. Joan feels an intense buildup of joyous energy that will soon be released. The immense strength of her lover is transferred into her body and she in turn gives back as good as she gets. The moment of ultimate pleasure is about to arrive for both…

Tap-tap-tap.

Joan gasps as her eyes open and the dream comes to an abrupt end. Oh crap, it really was just a dream. Another one of those deliciously tantalizing but ultimately frustrating dreams that have been coming to her with greater frequency of late. Joan muses on her dream, realizing that part of it was due to her still missing her late fiancé—the star of the dream, and part of it was her hot Girardi libido returning. Her body is reminding her that she is only twenty and not meant to mourn forever.

Tap-tap-tap.

Joan sighs, wishing he would go away, but she knows from experience her tutor-angel is relentless. Joan kicks off the warm covers and goes to the window. She shivers from the cold wind and notes there is a light snow drifting down to join the six inches from the snowfall of two days ago. Joan smiles at the sight of snowflakes clinging to her tutor's wings and wonders, since only she can see her 25 foot tall angel, can others see the snow clinging to him?

"I forgot to set my alarm. It will take a few minutes for me to get ready."

"Extra laps." The angel responds with attitude as he turns and walks toward the city park four blocks away where they normally train. Joan notices he does not leave footprints. Some day she will have to have explained to her the physics of how her angel can both be and not be solid.

As Joan dresses in long underwear and a jogging suit, she glances at the calendar and smiles. Except for Kevin, who could not get away from his work in California, the family is gathered together for the first time in months. Joan missed Luke, Grace and Annie so much, and they are not scheduled to return to Boston until after the first of the year. For the first time in a long time, Joan feels at peace…except for her dreams.

X X X X X

In Los Angeles, in the exclusive Brentwood neighborhood, in a beautiful Colonial style home, in the master bedroom, Dr. John Hunter is dreaming. It is no ordinary dream. Transition…

John opens his eyes and sees he is in a room (if 'room' is the correct term) that consists of white glass on all sides. There is no perspective, so the distant walls might be ten yards away or ten miles—assuming measured dimensions can actually exist in this spiritual dream world. It is not the first time John has visited such a sterile, blank existence, but usually 'Lord' is present. Sometimes God brings John here to show him something of importance that he needs to focus on. There is nothing to look at, but John does feel a tiny tug on his pajama leg.

John looks down and sees an adorable little blonde girl. He estimates the curly-haired toddler to be about 16 months old. She smiles up at him and John automatically smiles back.

"Hello, who are you?"

"I'm Annie." she replies in a tone of voice that has a 'duh' quality.

"Hi Annie. I'm Dr. Hunter."

Annie backs away. "Doctor…? No shots!"

"No Annie, I'm not that kind of doctor."

"Ohh." Annie says with a sigh of relief as she looks around. "Just us?"

"So it seems." John says as he kneels down to make communication easier. "Annie, do you know where we are?"

Annie nods. "This is where I come to play with my friend when I'm asleep."

John realizes that although Annie is very smart, she is speaking at a level far beyond her age. This is a form of spiritual conversation.

"Who is your friend, Annie?"

"Yah-Yah." Annie answers in the same 'duh' tone.

John smiles. "I know...Yah-Yah, but this doesn't seem like a very fun place to play."

"It is when Yah-Yah is here. He tells me stories, we play games and sometimes, he makes me things."

"What sort of things?"

"Anything I want, like a pink an' blue sunflower, polka dot zebras and...oh, once he made me a kangaroo!"

"There's nothing special about a kangaroo."

"This one had three tails and could jump higher than a tree, and when the baby came out of her pouch, it had wings. It flew all over the place." Annie says as she traces an erratic flight pattern in the air with her finger.

John chuckles. "That's amazing. Annie, I'm wondering...did Yah-Yah have a message for me?"

Annie pauses, thinking. "I forgot. Yah-Yah says you are a man of secrets. Do you want to play?"

"We don't have anything to play with."

Annie smiles and holds out her hands. A moment later a plastic bouncey-ball appears in her hands. It has the pattern of the earth painted on its' surface. Annie bounces the ball toward John who catches it.

"This is a nice ball, Annie. Did Yah-Yah say anything else?" John asks as he gently bounces the ball back.

Annie catches it and looks proud of her accomplishment. "Yah-Yah said you were to continue keeping all of the secrets you know...and the ones you learn."

"Is that all?" John asks as he catches the ball again and bounces it back.

Annie nods. She looks at the pattern on the ball and asks, "What's this?"

"That's what the world looks like. But if you don't know that, why did you make the ball look this way?"

"Cause it's really important for my Mama to see this right now... Oh, I have to go."

"Why so soon?"

"My aunt, E.T., is crying. She cries a lot, and it's waking me up."

Before John can ask anything else, Annie fades away. A moment later he is sleeping peacefully in his bed.

X X X X X

Helen Girardi enters the attic bedroom as quietly as she can. With Luke and Grace home and enjoying extended periods of 'alone time', making his old bedroom the nursery seemed a good idea. Helen sees there is no need for stealth as Annie is already rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Grandma, E.T. is crying...again!"

"I know Annie, and her name is Eleanor. I'll get to her as soon as I can." Helen says as she fumbles with the childproof lock on the gate that blocks the kids' access to the stairs. (How does this damn thing work?)

Annie leaves her small bed, goes to the gate and opens it for Helen. She then goes back to her bed and using a tiny step stool, climbs back under the covers. Helen shakes her head in wonder at her granddaughter while noting that Annie has figured out yet another 'childproof' item. She will have to mention this to Grace. (Maybe there is an even more complicated such lock on the market?) At least Eleanor is safe in her crib and only crying moderately (for her).

"She just needs changing." Helen comments as her daughter stops crying now that someone is here to attend to her needs. Very practiced, Helen quickly completes her task and gives the already sleeping Eleanor a light kiss on the head. Helen turns to her granddaughter and sees Annie is yawning. She tucks Annie in.

"Go back to sleep, Annie. It's a long time before you need to get up... Annie, you know you're only allowed one toy with you when you sleep. Do you want to keep your bunny or this ball?"

"Bun-nee."

Helen places the bouncey-ball with the globe pattern on the toy chest. Odd, she never noticed this before. Helen is about to wish Annie goodnight, but she sees the little girl has her eyes closed already. Helen exits, locking the gate behind her - for all the good it will do. As soon as her grandmother is gone, Annie looks up and frowns disapprovingly at the ball.

"Go away."

The ball that looks like the world ceases to exist.

X X X X X

"Oh God!" Grace suddenly gasps.

Luke, holding a watch in his hand, breathes a sigh of relief. He takes his trembling wife into his arms.

"Grace, are you okay? You were gone for a really long time. I was begining to worry."

Grace clings to her husband as she catches her breath. "That...was scary."

"Scary how? I thought there were no possible risks to you when you astral travel."

"Physically I was...no, that's not the right word. My...'being' was safe, but for awhile there I wasn't sure I was going to make it back."

"Then you did it? You made it all the way to Mars?"

Grace glares at Luke. "Thanks for the concern."

"Sorry. What went wrong?"

"Well, nothing. Not really. It went like all of my other trips, including the one I made to the moon last week. But this time, when it was time to come back, I realized I didn't know where Earth was. I looked up into a dark sky filled with stars and didn't have a clue. I have never felt such a moment of panic in my entire life."

"Is that why it took so long for you to return? You were trying to find your way home?"

Grace shakes her head. "No, the time was due to how long it took me to get there and back. How long was I out?"

"Over eight hours."

"Then it must have taken me at least four hours to get to Mars. That was a hell of a long trip just to look at something that resembles a child's tinker toy."

"Then you saw it?"

"The Mars rover? Yeah, I went right to it. Like I said, a long way to go to see something so ridiculous. After I saw it I looked around for a few minutes, but there's not much to see but rocks and sand. Then I decided to come back, and that's when it got scary. A least when I was on the moon I could look up and see the Earth."

"Then how did you get back?"

"I made myself calm down and think about what I was doing. In all of my trips, even though I see reference points as I travel, I don't need to use them to navigate. I can always trust the power God gave me to guide me back to my body. When I did that, I started home. You have no idea how relieved I was when I saw our big blue marble in the sky."

Grace and Luke exchange another long hug before she adds, "I am never doing that again."

"But Grace, think of the amazing possibilities. With a few simple calculations, I'll be able to figure your optimum speed. We can then calculate travel time to other destinations...like Venus! We know so much less about that planet compared to Mars. Potentially, you could actually stand on the surface of the sun!"

"And tell you what, that it's hot and bright? It's not like I can take scientific instruments with me. I can't even keep track of how much time goes by."

'But, you're wearing your watch."

"On my body. Geek, nothing physical goes with me when I travel."

"I hadn't considered that. Grace, when you astral travel, are you naked?"

"Don't get pervy. I always wear this white flowing gown. It's hard to describe, but it covers everything but my hands and head. I guess God knows I have body issues, and that I would be uncomfortable travelling around naked, even though no one can see me."

"What does this gown feel like?"

"I can't 'feel' anything in astral form. I'm only an observer. Luke, I really think we should shut down these experiments of yours."

"But we can learn so much. Think of it Grace, you're the first person ever to walk on Mars."

"No I'm not. It isn't like some future astronaut is going to to see my footprints in the sand because physically I wasn't there. But suppose I did see something that was an amazing scientific breakthrough, what could you do about it? You couldn't publish the findings because everyone would want to know how we made the discovery. Then what would you say?"

"Yeah...that would be awkward. The most I could do is offer an unsubstantiated supposition."

"Besides, this experimenting thing has always felt wrong to me. Scripture says you're not suppose to test God, and that's what this feels like. I was given this amazing gift, but it's not just for my amusement. I'm suppose to be on call when God needs me to witness something. What if I was suppose to witness an important event during this night, or during my trip to the moon last week and I wasn't even on the planet? I'm sorry Luke, I know you're all excited about the possibilities but no more. Okay...?"

Luke sighs and reluctantly nods. "Alright Grace, I'll try to restrain myself from suggesting any more experiments - even though I have tons of new ideas."

Grace smiles. "Well, let me console you with a very old but always popular idea..."

Grace kisses her husband while letting her hands roam freely...

X X X X X

Sex. Joan finds she can't get the idea off of her mind as she runs laps around mid-town park. Fortunately all of the jogging trails have been cleared of snow, and no more flakes are falling. Joan's tutor is going on and on about some incredibly boring topic that is way over her head. Not demons this time, but some nonsense about regional spirits and how they can shape the attitudes of communities. Why does she have to know this stuff? It's not like she can do anything about it at her level. Like, Arcadia has a spirit of corruption. Well duh, no surprise there.

Joan resumes thinking about sex. Okay, honest acknowledgement time. As much as I miss Jimmy, I can't spend the rest of my life celibate and alone. I haven't had a regular boyfriend since...before I started college, and I miss having a guy in my life. And not just for sex, although... Joan sighs as she considers the possibilities. I'm not so hard up I'm willing to jump the first guy I can, but if I don't get started on finding someone soon, I may lose control and do just that.

Joan thinks about where she might meet someone. Plenty of cute guys at the college, and some of them seemed very nice. Problem is, all of the cute/nice ones are taken, which makes sense. Really cute, really nice guys remain on the market for like a nanosecond. Of course there are plenty of guys who are cute but not so nice, or toadish but as nice as can be. No big appeal there. And then there are the players who specialize in seducing one woman after another. Surprisingly, while she has been in mourning, those horndogs have been pursuing her more than ever before in her life. Somber clothing, no make-up and a down attitude seems to make them think she has low self-esteem. A real red flag for those...bulls. But if she gets really desperate... No. It doesn't matter how lonely and frustrated she might get, she is who she is - complete with Catholic family values.

Then it has to be a real relationship, but who? It's not like she has ever been wildly successful with guys as witnessed by her failed relationships with Adam Rove and Dylan Hunter. How will she ever find some unnoticed diamond-in-the-rough who could be a potential great boyfriend and...(sigh) lover. Diamond in the rough...? Joan smiles as she remembers Spencer Reid, the brillant young F.B.I. profiler she met last Halloween. He was so nice to her, and kinda cute...for a geek. He seemed to like her and they shared a single kiss which was more than okay (marred only by the weeks of guilt that followed). But it has been nearly two months. Maybe he has already found someone else? Another smile. No, Spencer was definitely not a player, and he really did seem to be into her. If she gave him a call...?

Joan stops, her path blocked by her tutor.

"Center of the park. Combat practice." he says before striding away.

Joan follows, wondering what crawled up her tutor's butt. He has been in such a mood lately. Joan arrives at the park's center - a brick circle about twenty feet across. Kids have been busy building snowmen around the circle. Her tutor stands on the south side of the circle and barks commands at her...

"The snowmen around this circle represent attacking enemies. The one to the north is armed with a knife. The pair to the east and west are unarmed but moving in to restrain you before the armed one closes in to gut you. Your response?"

"Attack the strongest of the pair closing in."

"To the east."

Joan moves swiftly with well practiced motions. A few quick steps followed by a spin-kick takes off the head of the first snowman...

"By now the one to the west would be much closer." Joan comments as she rapidly charges the snowman to the west and repeats the spin-kick attack. Another snowman's head goes flying.

"And now the knifeman will be hesitating because he has seen what an awesome fighter I am. I charge..."

Suddenly Joan feels a sharp blow to her backside and she goes flying through the air. She lands in the snow at the edge of the circle and sliding, sliding she comes to a stop by bumping into the north snowman. Joan lifts her head and spits snow out of her mouth. Slowly, and with a wince of pain, she stands - brushing snow from her face and clothes. Angrily, she stares at her tutor.

"You kicked me!"

"Actually, I flicked you with my finger. If I had kicked you Joan, you would have cleared the trees."

"The point is, you hit me. You've never done that before. Why now?"

"Since you seemed determined to be distracted, even to the point of forgetting every lesson I've taught you, a reprimand seemed in order."

"What did I forget?"

"What is the first thing you do when entering combat?"

"Assess the situation, physically and spiritually."

Her tutor steps aside. Behind him is a fourth snowman.

"That's not fair. You blocked my view, and I can't get a 'read' on a snowman!"

"If your gifts were still developing, you would not have been caught off guard by my actions."

Joan sighs, climbs up on a nearby park bench and stands there arms akimbo. Her tutor kneels on the ground in front of her. He still towers above her, but the distance is not so extreme.

"Okay, I want to know why you've been so mean to me lately. Did I do something to tick you off?"

Her tutor pauses before replying, "Do you hear that sound?"

Joan listens carefully. "That car with its' tires spinning in the snow? What about it?"

"That's you, Joan. We train every day, but you have stopped making progress. You are content to remain as you are."

"Are you saying I'm not doing my job? Hey, two months ago I dispatched a death demon to hell."

"We both know you were lucky. I made no secret of the fact that when I was first assigned to tutor you, I was not impressed with this, 'Joan Girardi'. But to my surprise, you showed me a level of dedication and raw talent that went beyond the anticipated. You progressed rapidly in your abilities, and grudgingly I had to give you my respect. Of late, that has changed."

"I've...had a tough year."

"Agreed. But that does not excuse failing God."

"Fail...? I haven't heard any complaints."

"Nor will you. The Almighty, in His infinite wisdom and mercy, grants His servants free will. If you choose to be a slacker, He will reluctantly accept that disappointment regarding His plans for you."

"God's plans? Do you know what he has in store for my life?"

"No. That is for Him to know. But I have had thousands of years of experience with humans, training many of them just as I do with you, Joan. I have seen this pattern before. When God first appears in that person's life, he or she eagerly begins to serve and God rewards that by advancing them, just as He has done with you. But then life intrudes, and the chosen servants begin to wane in their enthusiasm. They reach a point where they think they have done enough, or they cease struggling to go higher in their relationship with God."

"And your response is to kick them around?"

To Joan's amazement, her tutor smiles. "No Joan, despite many temptations, today was unique in my experiences."

"Lucky me."

"Yes Joan, 'lucky you'. I wish you could see how much God has invested in you from the spiritual perspective. Although I do not know His plans, I know God does not plant and tend a garden without expecting a great harvest. There is something so very special about you in God's eyes, it makes me weep when I see you surrendering your fate to the mundane human existence."

"Is this because I was distracted about...sex?"

"Not entirely. It is a common, trivial distraction amongst your kind. But I know you are also concerned about serving two masters now that you are taking part time assignments from Issac Dunn of Homeland Security."

"Are you reading my mind?"

"No Joan, I 'read' you spiritually. On rare occasions, you have been able to do the same with me. If you were still advancing, still giving it all you can, those occasions would no longer be rare. You would have perceived my attack from...the rear."

Joan smiles. "An angelic pun?"

In response, the 25 foot tall angel stands - proclaiming this 'personal' time is at an end. "Think on what I have said, student. Expand your perception, expand your dedication. No one tends an unproductive garden forever."

With that he unfurls his six wings, giving Joan a rare glimpse of the many eyes on the inside of those wings, and he takes off straight up. Wind and snow swirl around Joan for a moment like a mini-tornado before all becomes still. Sighing, Joan walks away thinking about her tutor's words while gently rubbing her sore butt.

X X X X X

Nine-tenths of a mile away, on the rooftop of an old office building, a woman closely watches Joan through the telephoto lens of a digital camera. Did she get that? She hopes so but has her doubts. She and technology have never gotten along. To the casual observer this woman would seem quite ordinary, except for the circumstances of her current location and activity. She appears to be in her mid-fifties and is dressed in a very light coat. Most would wonder why she isn't shivering from the low tepmeratures, but as with all vampires, she enjoys the cold (great sleeping weather).

Pansy Schubert has been a vampire ever since New year's Eve night of 1899. On that night she had been on her way to join friends for a turn-of-the-century celebration when she encountered a rather perverse creature named Ramon, who was out for a 'celebration' of his own. Even by vampire standards Ramon was considered...odd, and that may be why he chose to turn Pansy. (Yes, she is aware of how odd her name sounds to modern ears.) A walking cliche of the tightly wound, spinster librarian, Pansy was the exact opposite of the kind of woman most male vampires would consider turning. But Ramon had unusual tastes...

Pansy smiles briefly as she always does when she remembers the fate of her despised 'sire' (accidentily killed by a child playing with matches, of all things). Since that time Pansy has had to deal with the bizarre fate that has been thrust upon her. Although many turned people quickly embrace the vampire lifestyle with enthusiasm, it was a complete horror to Pansy. Never able to bring herself to 'hunt', Pansy settled for low paying jobs at hospitals where very fresh corpses provided sustenance, or if necessary, the blood of those who were already dying in great pain. It was the least offensive assault to her values that Pansy could come up with and still survive, until technology provided a new way. With the advent of blood banks, survival became much easier, but at a great cost. It was strange how all of those Hollywood people never considered a vampire's need for money in their various movies and TV shows. Nearly all of the vamps Pansy has met over the years have held jobs, paid rent, went to the theater, shopped in stores, etcetera. You never saw that in a vampire movie.

Money is why Pansy finds herself trailing an odd young woman for the tenth day in a row. Her employer, an unusual human who calls himself 'General Smith', seemed completely unconcerned with her vampire status. In fact, that is why he hired her - but with the warning that she must never get too close to this, Joan Girardi. The General seemed convinced that 'Joan' would some how know what she is if Pansy ever got near the girl. So, for ten days Pansy has kept her distance while watching and waiting for the ill-defined something special that Smith was seeking to have recorded. The task requires Pansy to use these modern gadgets like digital cameras and parabolic microphones. (Truly, she hates technology. In her day typewriters were the new innovation - a poor excuse for letting penmanship decline. And computers! Trying to find a book in a large library was now a Herculean task compared to the simplicity of the old card catalogs...)

Pansy tries to get back the image she recorded earlier...(how does this damn thing work?). So far all she has been able to report to the General is that Joan is...strange. She occasionally engages in brief, odd conversations with strangers and every morning she exercises rigourously while talking to herself. There! She did get it. While Joan was attacking the snowmen (for whatever warped reason), she was suddenly lifted into the air and landed a dozen feet or so away from where she was standing. It definitely wasn't a sudden leap by the girl. You can clearly see this has come as a painful surprise. Pansy wonders what could have caused such a thing, but can not come up with an explanation. No matter. This definitely fits the General's instructions to record anything weird. Maybe it will be enough to earn her that promised bonus? With an astonishing leap of her own, Pansy jumps to the roof of the next building...

X X X X X

Kevin Girardi answers the knock at the door of the Venice Beach loft apartment he shares with his lady love, Barbara Greyson. Yawning hugely, he nods a greeting to Barbara's half-brother, Dylan Hunter.

"Kevin, I'm sorry. Did I wake you? I know it's early..."

"Nah, I'm up. I just don't resemble anything human until after I've had my morning coffee. Come on in, Barbara is still getting ready."

Kevin, leaning heavily on his cane (he has good days and bad), leads the way to the kitchen where he pours himself a huge mug of coffee and offers some to Dylan, who declines. After a few sips, Kevin 'ahhs' and smiles...

"Oh yeah, that's better. So, Dylan, you're driving Barbara to Malibu?"

"Yes, I'm her exit strategy from the crowd of family members on the Greyson side. I'm suppose to insist on an early departure to finish my Christmas shopping. This way Barbara hopes to avoid awkwardness when she leaves first."

"A little bit of Greyson family-time goes a long way?"

"Sadly, yes. I know she likes spending time with her dad and Hi's new wife, Debra..."

"And the baby?"

Dylan smiles. "Yes, she has definitely grown fond of her new half-sister. I just wish Barb had that much affection for her half-brothers."

"She likes you."

"The other ones."

Kevin shrugs. "It's hard for her. Barbara grew up with you, but she barely knows the other four. And, it doesn't help that her four ex-stepmothers will all be there too. I can understand why she wants an early exit from that social nightmare. Why do they all insist on gathering together on holidays like Christmas Eve?"

"That's Hi Greyson's idea. Can you imagine the logistics of trying to visit four ex-wives, each with a son of his, all on the same day? This way they gather for a big breakfast, exchange presents, spend a little 'quality' time together as a family and they're gone long before nightfall. That frees everyone up to have Christmas day however they wish."

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense, but it sure stresses Barbara out."

"It's mostly the presence of the ex-wives. The 'Four Blonde Vultures' is what Barb calls them. I guess each one is trying to make sure their son gets as much time as possible with Hi, but Barbara thinks they're mostly interested in securing as much of Hi's estate as possible in case he dies any time soon. Not that this is likely. With his habit of marrying young women, Hiram Greyson keeps himself very fit."

Kevin cautiously looks over his shoulder before lowering his voice. "Speaking of marrying young women, guess who is going to propose to your sister tomorrow?"

Dylan tries to force a smile to his face. "Really. You guys are ready to make the big step?"

Kevin grins. "Oh yeah, I'm a hundred and ten percent sure Barbara is the one. I'm picking up the engagement ring later this morning. How's that for a Christmas present?"

"It sounds...awesome. Definitely a memorable Christmas. Uh, do you think Barbara will be...that is..."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Well, it's just that you are both so young and career oriented."

"You're younger than me and you proposed to Joan last summer..." (Kevin hesitates as he sees the painful wince that elicits from Dylan.) "Oh hey, I didn't mean to open an old wound. But...you sound like you think your sister might say no."

"I'm sure Barbara loves you, Kevin. I've never seen her so committed to a guy or so happy, but...yeah, I have to wonder how Barbara will react. You must know how she feels about marriage."

"Because of her real dad and his revolving door of marriages? Sure, I know that soured Barbara a bit on marriage, but she always speaks fondly of her days with her mom and your dad together as a family. One of the reasons I've waited as long as I have to propose is to give Barbara the chance to get use to the idea of us as a permanent couple. Trust me Dylan, I know your sister even better than you. Come tomorrow, I will be an engaged man."

"Then I wish you all the best, and I'll be proud to call you my brother-in-law."

X X X X X

Grace is finishing loading the dishwasher when she hears her sister-in-law entering from the back stairs...

"You sure took a long time in the shower."

Joan, moving a little slowly, replies, "I wanted to work the kinks out with the hot water."

"Are you sure you're okay after your fall in the snow?"

"Sure, although I'll have a big bruise on my butt to look forward to."

"Okay, more than I needed to know."

"Where is everyone?"

"Mama Girardi is delivering two different portraits to clients. Apparently Christmas is a big season for her. Brain Boy is paying a visit to a couple of his old nerd buddies from high school and your dad got a call from the office."

"On Christmas eve?"

Grace shrugs. "Maybe it was important. Maybe your dad just wants to get in a last bit of cop time before he resigns next week. Hey, Annie and E.T. are in the den. Annie wants to give you her morning hugs."

Joan smiles. "Favorite part of my day."

Joan leaves the kitchen and goes to the door leading to the den. She pauses at what she sees. Annie has a book in her hands (Joan recognizes it as 'The Cat In The Hat' from when she use to read it to Larry the Cat), and she is reading it aloud. The book rests on the netting of the playpen, and E.T. sits behind the netting listening to the story. Annie pauses to show the picture to her younger aunt...

"See E.T., there's the cat and there's his hat."

Joan slips back into the kitchen and whispers, "Grace, come here. You've got to see this."

Grace follows and Joan points out Annie reading. Joan whispers again, "Can you believe this?"

Grace whispers back, "You mean Annie reading? Yeah, she's been doing that for about two months now."

"She has? Did you guys teach her?"

"Not intentionally. Every night one of us would read Annie a bedtime story, and we would point at the words as we pronounced them. Soon Annie was reading along to favorite stories, which we thought was just a good memory on her part. But then on new stories she would be sounding out words she had never seen before and asking what they meant."

"This is amazing."

Grace smiles, pride on her face. "Well, she is a genius..."

Joan detects a hesitation in Grace's voice. "Problem?"

"Sometimes I worry...I'm not smart enough to be a good mom to a girl as smart as Annie."

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it? Luke seems convinced that Annie will be even smarter than him. How can I keep up?"

"Grace, you're suppose to be Annie's mom, not her tutor. Your job is to guide her through life with love, values and good sense - which you have plenty of. Don't think Annie won't respect or treasure you because her I.Q. may be higher. Do you think Luke looks down on Mom and Dad because he's smarter than them?"

Grace smiles and gives Joan a quick hug. "You're right. Luke still turns to your folks for guidance in all sorts of ways. Thanks Joan."

The pair continue watching as Annie reads the story letter perfect, pausing occasionally to show E.T. the pictures. E.T. notices the two adults watching the scene and frowns. This intruder into her domain is capturing the attention and admiration that is rightfully hers. As Annie again rests the book against the netting of the playpen, E.T. suddenly pushes hard with both hands against the book, which hits Annie in the nose. Annie, startled and hurting, drops the book and begins to cry. Grace rushes to her daughter and picks her up...

"Shh, it's okay sweetie, you're not really hurt."

Annie sniffles a couple of times and stops crying. "Mama, E.T. hit me!"

"I saw, but Annie, she's just a baby. E.T. doesn't understand what she is doing. Come on, we'll go to the kitchen and get you a drink of water."

As Grace and Annie pass by, Joan goes into the den and retrieves the fallen book. She looks down at her baby sister and wonders...

X X X X X

The private marina on the Arcadia riverfront is only a short distance downstream from the public one, but the difference is like night and day. Will takes note of the many expensive boats docked at the facility, most of them quite large and luxurious. The houseboat of Judge Donald Baker is one of the best in town. Not far away from the houseboat, a somber faced team from the coroner's office is loading a body bag into a waiting van. Will signals for them to pause and the medical examiner unzips the bag. Will has to brace himself against the sad sight of the dead young girl...

"Has she been i.d.'d?" Will asks.

"Linda Alvarez, missing from her Marston home for a week. Poor kid, she would have been 13 tomorrow." the M.E. responds.

"Single gunshot to the back of the head. Seems consistent with the judge's statement."

"Considering how long the body was in that freezing water, it's a good thing we have the judge's word on the timing. Otherwise time of death would be very hard to acurately figure."

Will nods and the medical examiner rezips the bag and enters the van. It speeds away. The department's head detective, recently promoted Captain Toni Chadwick (formerly Williams), approaches.

"Sorry to call you out on a holiday, Will."

"I'm always available for something like this, but I am a little confused as to why the Arcadia Police are handling this case. Wasn't the body found downstream, out of our jurisdiction?"

"Yes, and the girl is from nearby Marston so the case could go to them or the sheriff's department. But the boat that was used in the murder was stolen from the public marina here in town. It was found abandoned several miles downstream with no fingerprints."

"Mixed jurisdiction, but we have the best facilities to handle the case - unless the feds decide to intrude?"

"I passed along the pertinent data to the F.B.I., but with the holiday it may take awhile to get a response."

"Alright, what do we have besides Judge Baker's statement..." (Will looks at the report in his hands.) "He was alone on the river in an isolated spot because he was trying to avoid people during the holiday season?"

"According to the judge since his divorce, and since he has no local family, he gets overwhelmed with invitations by people feeling sorry for him because he's alone. So, he isolates himself on his houseboat until Christmas is over."

"Bah humbug? And is that a hint of doubt I hear in your voice, Captain?"

Captain Chadwick hesitates. "He claims the crime took place around one a.m., but didn't report it until after three."

"You think he's lying about something? That Judge Baker was involved?"

"Lying, yes. Involved, no. His Honor has all the signs of someone who was recently enjoying a little nose candy, and judging by the scented candles, the rumpled bed, and the hastily but poorly hidden condoms and Viagra..."

"Judge Baker was celebrating the holidays with a little inappropriate sexual escapade. That's why he delayed informing us?"

"Officially the judge forgot his cell phone and the marine band radio on his houseboat malfunctioned. I checked - there is a loose wire. It would have taken Judge Baker at least ninety minutes to work his way back upstream to Arcadia in a slow moving houseboat. The rest of the time he accounts for by saying he was too scared to start his boat's engines until he was sure the killer was safely out of the area. Except for the delay, the judge's story doesn't harm our investigation, so I thought I would let it slide unchallenged. If that's okay?"

Will sighs. "I suppose it's the least I can do for a man whose car I smashed into a pole. Alright Captain, keep me informed of any progress, and try to get the feds to respond. After what happened in this town last Halloween, I want to be absolutely certain we don't have another serial killer on our hands."

"Oh God, I hope not."

"As do we all." Will says as he starts to walk away. "And oh, Merry Christmas."

X X X X X

The weather this Christmas Eve morning is not too bad in Malibu, and Dylan Hunter and his sister Barbara Greyson enjoy the brisk atmosphere as they walk along the beach. At the water's edge, wetsuit clad surfers, the real dedicated ones, enjoy their passionate pursuit.

"At least we got a great breakfast out of our trip here." Dylan comments.

"Oh yeah, you can always count on a great spread at Hi Greyson's house. You know that buffet was supplied by one of the local production companies?"

Dylan nods. Hiram 'Hi' Greyson may be the butt of a lot of jokes from the critics and Hollywood's elite, but his unchallenged reputation of being able to deliver projects on time and under budget make him a virtual god to the industry's networks and production companies. They never passed on an opportunity to kiss Hi's backside.

"So far so good?" Dylan ventures.

"If all I had to endure was a good meal this wouldn't be such an ordeal. I don't know how much longer I can stretch out this 'walking off breakfast' routine."

"You have the gift exchange to look forward to."

Barbara smiles. "Again, that's not so bad. It's what follows that's so hard to take. The way the Blonde Vultures jocky for position, trying to focus Dad solely on their particular little 'chick'... It makes a sick joke of what Dad is wanting for us - a sense of family. No wonder none of us get along."

"Barb..."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. I'm no better than the rest. Just another hungry baby bird trying to get daddy's attention. How pathetic is that?"

"At least your motivation isn't money driven. And your other brothers legitimately deserve your dad's time. I just wish you could make the effort to get along with them. It doesn't seem right, speaking as a half-brother, that you are so estranged. They're family."

Barbara nods, looking sad. "I think if all of my ex-stepmothers weren't present, the rest of us could do better getting along. It's not like I have anything against the boys. I just don't know them that well."

"Then maybe this is your chance to get closer? If you make the effort, they will probably respond positively. And I know your dad would like it."

"Okay, I'll try. Dad has some new game he wants all of us to play. That might be a good start."

"Game?"

"His latest project. Dad figues it's time to get some of the big bucks available in producing, so he's going to have a game show he's created on the air starting sometime next month. We all get a preview by playing a home version. Won't-that-be-fun!"

"It might be if you drop that sarcastic attitude."

Barbara laughs and playfully punches Dylan in the arm. "Enough with the lecture. I promise to be good, as long as you remember to get me out of here as early as possible with your 'shopping'. Okay?"

"Okay. I only want you to enjoy being with your family."

"Since when are you so gung-ho on family life?"

"Since always. You and me, Mom and Dad..."

"Were better than the Brady Bunch on happy pills, but face it 'little' bro, we were the exception. If there's one thing Hi has taught me, it's that most families are a big steaming pile of..."

"Hey, language."

"That's Step-dad's line. Point is, it's unrealistic to think any family has a good chance at happiness."

"What about you and Kevin? Don't you see the two of you someday being...a family?"

Barbara snorts with laughter. "With what, a white picket fence, two point five kids and a dog? As if!"

"Never?"

"Well...maybe, someday. When are careers are established, and we grow tired of having fun and freedom, then we can think about stuff like that. But that's a long way off. Meanwhile, I better get back inside to keep the vultures from trashing me too much. Coming?"

Dylan hesitates as he notices one of the surfers slowly approaching. "In awhile. I want to walk on the beach a little longer."

Barbara gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Not too long. I need someone to watch my back."

Dylan waits until Barbara is back at the house before he turns to face 'Surfer-dude God'. Part of Dylan's charism is that he always recognizes God in whatever form he takes...

"Gnarly waves, Dude. Totally tubular. You should grab a board and enjoy."

"You realize your slang is years out of date?" Dylan asks while suppressing a smile.

"I know, but I have a fondness for old-timey speech patterns. One of these days I plan to bring back the word, nifty."

"Did you really want me to surf?"

"No, that was just me being 'in character'. I do have an assignment...but..."

"You're hesitating? Since when does God hesitate?"

"This assignment will be difficult, Dylan. It goes beyond your current level of training and will be quite a challenge. I want you to know that if you choose to abandon this assignment at any time, I will not hold it against you."

Dylan gulps and nods. "I'll do my best."

"You always do. Are you aware of the nearest 'Circuit City' location?"

"Uh yeah, it's in a mall a couple of miles from here."

"Go there and enter the store at precisely 10:58."

"And then?"

"Be alert for any sign of the enemy. Trust your instincts."

With that, Surfer-dude God walks away giving the backhand wave.

Dylan checks his watch and realizes he will have to hurry. No time to make excuses to Barbara. He will have to send her a text after he gets to the mall...

X X X X X

The Arcadia Mall is the largest in the region, and normally Joan enjoys her trips there, but not during the madhouse of Christmas Eve shopping. From every direction Joan finds herself being bumped and prodded by half the town, all desperate to find that last minute perfect gift. It has dawned on Joan that she has forgotten to buy a certain member of the family a gift for Christmas. Not that E.T. has any idea about the holiday, or will remember this occasion, but Joan has decided the 'little alien' deserves something she will like. As Joan heads for the toy store, her jaw drops as she recognizes a familiar and deeply missed friend...

"Adam? Oh-my-God, it's really you!"

Adam Rove turns and smiles broadly. Automatically the pair embraces. As the warm, affectionate hug continues, Joan remembers how good it feels to be in a guy's arms - especially these arms. She also recalls that the last time they were together in San Francisco, they had discussed the possibility of a friends-with-benefits arrangement. Maybe...?

"Adam, I thought you weren't going to make it back to town for Christmas."

"I got lucky, Joan. I picked up a couple of extra portrait commissions for the holiday, and a couple of other clients paid before the first of the month, so for the first time in a long while I got a little ahead money-wise. It's been such a long time since I've seen my Dad, so we made the last minute decision to come."

"We?"

"Hello Joan." says a voice from behind her.

Joan turns and sees Cindy Thomas, the crime reporter she met when she was in San Francisco last summer. Cindy goes to Adam's side, takes his arm and gives him a kiss on the cheek. Joan gives a little nod, acknowledging that Cindy is marking her 'territory'. Apparently, despite the nearly three year difference in their ages, the Adam/Cindy flirtation has advanced into a real relationship.

"Hello Cindy, nice to see you again. So, you accompanied Adam to Arcadia?"

Cindy politely smiles. "I don't have any family in the bay area, and I definitely wanted to spend Christmas with my boyfriend. I was so pleased to meet Mr. Rove and his fiancee."

"What's this?" Joan asks.

Adam replies, "Dad and Lillian have made it official. They're getting married."

"Adam, that's great. Uh, that is if there are no problems with you and Mrs. Figliola?"

"About Glynis? No, we've managed to put that behind us. Lillian is...more realistic about Glynis and the things she did. She and I are on good terms now. What about you, Joan? Are you...?"

"Getting on with my life? Yeah, I'm fine. Guys, it was great to see you again, but you know - last minute shopping."

"Us too." Adam says as they share a quick farewell hug.

As Adam and Cindy walk away, Joan sighs. She could clearly read the strong connection between the two. She was happy for Adam, but this little encounter reminded Joan that she really does need to get on with her life. Meanwhile, back to fighting the mall crowd...

X X X X X

As Dylan travels through the Westward Mall, trying his best not to shove, he keeps a careful eye on his watch. It is one of those accurate to a thousandth of a second kind, so he knows he will arrive on time. Nearing the entrance to the Circuit City store, Dylan stops short as he sees an unexpected sight. In a nearby window display of a sportings good store there is a mannequin dressed in camoflauge hunting gear, holding a shotgun and surrounded by a couple of phony hunting dogs and several fake ducks. Dylan's charism tells him that the mannequin is...God. Can God appear as a non-living object? Well, why not? Dylan watches the 'plastic' figure and for just a fraction of a second there is a wink of the eye. Dylan's memory is jogged and he moves to the entrance of the Circuit City. Timing it out perfectly, Dylan enters the store at exactly 10:58.

The moment Dylan enters the store, a bell begins ringing, lights flash and confetti drops from above. A moment later a portly man in his forties appears and begins shaking Dylan's hand...

"Congratulations sir, you are our thousandth customer on this last day of Christmas shopping and you have won our grand prize. I'm Harold Hayfield, store manager, and you are...?"

"Dylan Hunter."

"Well Dylan, we have our prize ready for you to enjoy. Karen...?"

A very pretty young woman approaches with a giant mock up of a Circuit City gift card for one thousand dollars. She hands Dylan the card and smiles as a photographer snaps pictures. After the photos are done, the giant card is taken away and a normal sized one is substituted.

"Well Dylan, I hope you enjoy your opportunity to purchase some of our many fine products. Was it the contest that brought you to our store?"

Dylan hesitates, thinking about his assignment. Obviously God expected more than for him to win a gift card he didn't really need. He has to search the store for any sign of the enemy...

"Actually, I was just out doing a little last minute shopping. This is my first visit to your fine store, Mr. Hayfield and I would love a chance to look it over thoroughly. Perhaps with a lovely escort?" Dylan says with a sly wink.

Hayfield winks back, getting the idea. "Of course, happy to oblige. Karen, will you show our lucky winner around and see to his every need?"

Karen nods enthusiastically. She can't take her eyes off of the most...beautiful young man she has ever seen. "It would be my pleasure. This way, sir?"

Dylan holds out his arm and Karen takes it. They stroll away and Karen begins showing Dylan around the large store. Although trying to stay focused on his assignment, Dylan has to acknowledge an attraction to this beautiful girl with the stunning figure. Since being refused by Joan in his proposal of marriage last summer, Dylan has been leading a dull, celibate life - a type of mourning for his lost love. Now, hormones are reminding him that it has been a very long time since he has enjoyed any female company...

"So, Karen 'C', what does the 'C' stand for?" Dylan asks, pointing at Karen's nametag.

"Casper. You know, like the friendly ghost."

"And are you friendly?" Dylan asks with a smile that nearly causes Karen's knees to buckle.

"I can be." Karen says with a smile of her own. "What about you, Dylan? I'll bet you're an actor. Or maybe a male model?"

Dylan laughs. "No, just a lowly college student. I'm studying pre-med at U.C.L.A."

"Hey, me too. Well, not pre-med but accounting. At least I am for the moment..."

"Problems?"

"Like everyone else, money. I have a scholarship and some student loans, but I was also getting a lot of support from my Dad. We had to move around the country while he looked for work, and he finally got a good job here in L.A. But, he injured his back and will be on medical leave for a fairly long time. His pay while being off is a fraction of what he normally makes, so we're barely making ends meet. I picked up a seasonal job here to supplement our income."

"And do you make a commission on sales?"

"Sure, but I wasn't hinting..."

"I have to spend this card on something, and I was thinking it was time my Dad went from desktops only to his own laptop. And, he can upgrade to this new 'Vista' system. Let's take a look at computers..."

X X X X X

In the toy store, Joan is just finishing her purchase of a small bouncy-ball for E.T. The surface is highly reflective, and Joan knows her baby sister will enjoy staring at herself in the ball. As she reaches the store's exit, Joan literally bumps into another old friend...

"Sorry...hey, Freidman!"

"Joan, happy holidays."

"You too." Joan says as a quick hug is shared.

"Joan, do you remember my youngest brother, Nathan?"

Joan smiles as she looks at the younger brother and sees what her friend must have looked like at that age. "Uh yeah, we met at your brother David's bar mitzvah party."

Nathan smiles as his eyes focus on Joan's breasts. "Yeah, I remember...you. I'll be having my own bar mitzvah soon since I turn 13 tomorrow."

"Your birthday is on Christmas day? That sucks."

"It's not such a big deal when you're Jewish."

"Oh, right." Joan says with a slight blush.

"You know, when a Jewish boy turns 13, he's considered a man." Nathan adds while still staring at Joan and begining to sweat.

Friedman smacks his little brother in the back of the head. "Behave yourself. How have you been, Joan?"

Joan sighs at the usual question. "Getting on with my life - really. By the way, thanks for signing me up for 'Vocals', it was my favorite class this past semester."

Friedman chuckles. "I thought you would get a kick out of it, O' Queen of the Zombies."

They share a brief laugh as they remember with fondness their old high school musical. At that moment Dillon Samuels appears carrying several shopping bags filled with gifts. She sees Joan and her boyfriend laughing in such a friendly way and automatically takes "Theodore's" arm and gives him a kiss on the cheek...

"Hello Joan, Merry Christmas."

"Hey Dillon, right back atcha." Joan responds as she notes the :"He's mine!" action. Is she sending out some sort of predator vibe that's making other women nervous?

"Theodore, sweetie, I hate to rush you, but I still have more shopping to do."

"More...? I mean, sure Dillon. See ya, Joan."

They all wave farewell and just before they are out of earshot, Joan hears Friedman reprimand his kid brother..."What have I told you about staring at women like that? It's creepy!"

Joan smiles as she concedes at least she can stir the passion of a young geek. And thinking of geeks... Joan looks through her phone's info and finds Spencer Reid's number. Should she? Joan sighs, never having called a guy for a date before. Well, don't approach it that way. Just a friendly call to wish him a Merry Christmas, and if the topic of conversation should happen to drift toward New Year's Eve and the lack of dates for both and how easy that would be to mutually solve... Joan stares at her phone debating if she can do this. She stares down demons on a regular basis, but this is hard...? Yes, very hard.

X X X X X

Dylan and Karen sit side-by-side as they stare at a monitor that shows the store's entrance. On the screen a number count automatically advances as each new customer enters.

"So this is how you knew I was number one thousand?"

"Yes, it's a special system that was set up for the contest only."

"It's not a part of the other monitors?" Dylan asks as he points at a dozen similar monitors that cover the rest of the store.

"Those are actually controlled by mall security. This special one is the only one we have control over."

"Control? Like, you could run it back and show all of the people who came in today?" Dylan asks, feeling a bit desperate. He has been over every inch of the store and could find no sign of the enemy or his activities.

"Sure." Karen says as she resets the time stamp and the image changes to the start of business that day. "As you can see, we were very busy from the first moment the doors opened."

The day's shoppers go by at a fast forward pace, the customer numbers flashing so fast they can barely be discerned.

"There, stop!"

Karen freezes the frame.

"Go back a few images."

Karen slowly reverses the monitor and she doesn't need to be told on which image to stop...

"Whoa, creepy." she comments.

The image on the screen is of a...lunatic. It is the only way to describe the guy. Unshaven, with a scar and dark glasses, his face is distorted with hate. He has a hood pulled up over his head and the man has his hand raised to block his image from the camera. Anyone seeing this guy would automatically feel nervous and back away. Dylan notes the number on the monitor identifying the guy as customer number six-six-six...

Before Dylan can speak, the P.A. system blares out... "Attention all mall employees. Code twenty one. Repeat, code twenty one."

"What's that?" Dylan asks.

"Code twenty one, an Amber alert. There's a child missing."

X X X X X

On a warm blanket in the nursery, Annie is trying to live up to her Mama's instruction to get along with E.T. She has read her aunt a couple of stories, and while E.T. seemed interested in Annie's ability to read, the stories themselves were a bore to her. It is almost like she has no interest in anyone or anything other than herself. Annie has tried a version of her old pointing game, with E.T. being the pointer, but her aunt only seems to care for looking at herself in the nearly endless number of reflective toys she owns. Maybe if she shared her own favorite toy...?

Annie goes to the bed and retrieves her constant bedtime companion. "See E.T., this is Bun-nee. Bun-nee is my friend, even though he's not real. Would you like to hold him?"

Annie hands over the stuffed bunny and to her surprise, E.T. latches onto the toy with great enthusiasm. The baby coos with happiness as she rocks back and forth while clutching the stuffed toy. Annie smiles, glad to have found some common ground with her aunt.

"He's soft and warm. I always sleep with Bun-nee. I'm glad you like him too."

E.T. sticks one of the bunny's ears into her mouth and begins to slobber on it. Annie frowns, not liking this but she remains determined to get along with her aunt for her Mama's sake.

"Does he...taste good?" Annie asks, thinking this a strange thing to do to Bun-nee's ears.

Next, E.T. begins bopping the stuffed bunny's head onto the floor. She sees Annie's annoyance at this and laughs.

"Stop, you'll hurt Bun-nee..." Annie begins but then pauses. No, Bun-nee is not real. He can't be hurt, but still, this has to stop.

"Okay, time to give Bun-nee back."

Annie tries to take her toy back, but E.T. clings stubbornly to the bunny. Annie is stronger and manages to pull the toy away, but immediately E.T. begins crying very loudly. The crying continues and soon Helen and Grace are rushing up the stairs to see what is wrong. They pause at the childproof gate, taking several moments to figure out how to open the annoying lock.

"What's going on?" Grace asks.

Annie replies, "I let E.T. play with Bun-nee and she was mean to him, so I took him back."

Helen has taken her daughter into her arms and Eleanor gives her mother the saddest face she has ever seen on her child. E.T. points at the bunny and wails in misery.

"Annie...did you hurt Eleanor?" Helen asks.

"NO!"

"Indoor voice." Grace says.

"Sorry. I just took back Bun-nee."

E.T. continues to cry, getting even louder as her face goes red and she desperately points toward the stuffed bunny. Helen tries to console her daughter, even using one of the mirrors that normally calm her down, but it does no good. Eleanor continues to squirm and reach toward the bunny as if her life depended on it. Grace can see the misery on Helen's face as she tries to think of a way to calm her child. Grace sighs, knowing what she must do.

"Annie, let E.T. have your bunny."

Annie backs away, horrified. "No, Bun-nee is mine!"

"Annie please, do this for Mama. Just for now?"

Annie hesitates. There is nothing she would not do to make her Mama happy, but she sees how it is. Once Bun-nee is in E.T.'s hands, she will never get him back. With a couple of tears running down her cheeks, Annie reluctantly hands over Bun-nee to her Mama. Grace hands the toy to Helen and instantly E.T. calms as the toy is placed in her eager arms.

"Thank you Grace. Thank you Annie." Helen says with relief and more than a little guilt.

Grace picks up Annie. "Come on kiddo, let's get you some chocolate ice cream."

"With cherries?"

"With cherries and whipped cream."

Annie clings to her mother as they go down the stairs. She sees Grandma placing E.T. in her crib, still clutching her new toy. Moments later, Helen leaves the room. Once she is alone, E.T. kicks the stuffed toy aside. She cares nothing for the ridiculous thing, but she smiles at her victory over her rival. This will teach her foe that she can not invade her kingdom without consequences. Her servants are more powerful than those of her enemy...

X X X X X

At the Westward Mall crowds of people are slowly working their way toward the main exit. Police officers are checking everyone's i.d. and asking a couple of routine questions about whether anyone saw something suspicious. Those who think they have even the most trivial info are routed to the nearby mall security office. Everytime the door to that office opens, a distraught mother can be seen crying. Rumors are circulating all over the mall, and nearly all agree that the middle school aged boy who disappeared was taken to the mall for a shopping trip. Since the boy didn't want his mother to see what he was buying her for Christmas, they separated with the agreement to meet at the food court in one hour. When the boy didn't show, mall security was alerted. Eventually the police were called and an Amber alert issued. No one has been allowed to leave the mall without first being questioned by the police. Rumor says security cameras failed to detect the boy's kidnapping.

Standing in the line waiting to exit is Elaine Lishack and her daughter, Emily. Although Lishack faced some horrifying dangers in her younger days as a secret agent, that doesn't begin to compare to her greatest fear - that something like this could happen to her daughter. Everytime the security office door opens and closes, Lishack gets a glimpse of the unconsoleable mother and she hugs Emily tightly in response. Emily, not sure what all of the fuss is about, detects her mother's fear and clings tightly to her. Lishack noticed Dylan Hunter enter the security office earlier, but she made no effort to draw his attention. As much as she likes her former student, she only wants to get back to Dana Tuchman's house where she and Emily are staying during the holidays.

Inside the security office Lt. Provenza, a grey-haired detective who must be way beyond retirement age, gives Dylan a nod of dismissal. "Thank you Mr. Hunter, that will be all."

"But...what about the guy I pointed out?"

Provenza chuckles. "You and over a hundred other people noticed the same bad guy. Mall security was following him around all morning, watching his every move and expecting something crazy would occur since he was such an obviously dangerous nutjob. Turns out he is an actor named Keith Bryant who was practicing for a movie role where he would play a crazed lunatic."

"Then he had nothing to do with grabbing the missing child?"

"The one person we are certain is innocent is this Keith guy. Security obsessively never took their eyes off of him. Thanks again for trying to help."

Dylan takes the hint and leaves the security office, making room for the next 'helpful' person. Dylan walks through the mall feeling like an utter failure. A 12 year old boy was kidnapped practically under his nose and all he managed to do was send the cops off on a wild goose chase... Dylan suddenly remembers Mannequin God in the window display with the fake ducks...decoys! As Dylan passes the food court, he spots the actor Keith Bryant having a cup of coffee...

"Mr. Bryant?"

The actor sighs. "I'm not the guy. The police have cleared me."

Dylan sits opposite the actor and notes the transformation. The fake scar and dark glasses are gone as well as the scary 'tude. He now looks quite ordinary. "Yes, I heard about the mix up with the cops. I just wanted to congratulate you on your acting. It was an amazingly realistic performance, Mr. Bryant."

He smiles. "Really? Thanks, and call me Keith. I just hope Mr. Schwartz shares your opinion."

"Schwartz?"

"He's a casting director who is considering me for this movie role where I will play a crazed stalker. Mr. Schwartz wasn't sure I could look scary enough to be convincing, so he came up with this test."

"Keith, are you saying this Schwartz guy arranged for you to be at the mall this morning in this 'stalker' guise?"

"Of course. Mr. Schwartz said he would be watching from a distance and would judge my performance by how the crowd reacted to me. I guess I passed, but it's a terrible coincidence that some poor kid was snatched at the same time."

"Yes, a terrible...coincidence. Keith, where would I find this Mr. Schwartz?"

"I knew it! You're an actor too. Hey, if you're thinking of grabbing this part away from me..."

"I wouldn't dream of it, but I have been told by people that I should give acting a try. Tell you what, if you can direct me to Schwartz, I'll introduce you to this guy..." Dylan says as he shows a picture on his phone that was taken earlier in the day.

"Hi Greyson, the director? Deal!"

X X X X X

Joan sits in her bedroom staring at her phone. No matter how hard she tries, she can't bring herself to call Spencer. It isn't just because she is nervous about calling a guy to hint for a date. There is also the guilt she feels that is causing Joan to hesitate. It has only been five months since Jimmy Tubb's death and here she is thinking about guys, dating and...sex. The same as she would be doing if she had never met Jimmy. How can she be considering just moving on with her life as if nothing significant had occured? Shouldn't Jimmy's life have affected her more than this? If only she hadn't lost their baby...

But here she is, ready (?) to take the next step. The odd thing is, the one person being the most encouraging to Joan is Jimmy himself. Sitting here quietly, she can feel his love pouring out to her spirit. He truly wants her to fully enjoy her life, including dating (apparently there is no jealousy in heaven). Joan sighs and punches in Spencer Reid's number. Voice mail. Oh crap...

"Uh, hi Spencer. It's Joan...Girardi. I was thinking of you...fondly, that is. And, I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas or a happy holidays if you prefer. If you like, um, you can call me back? I'd love...uh, I'd enjoy hearing from you again. This is Joan...bye."

Joan disconnects and groans. God, that was so lame. How do guys do this?

X X X X X

Maggie Lincoln, personal assistant, is finishing up her work for the day when she hears the door to the office open. Without looking up she comments, "We're closing early, so try again on Wednesday..."

Maggie pauses as she glances at her visitor and gulps in hormonal response. He is young, around 20, handsome to the point of being beautiful and with the body of a Greek god. Maggie automatically checks her hair and smiles broadly. "Good afternoon, Mister...?"

"Dylan Hunter." he replies with a devastating smile.

Maggie is use to seeing handsome young men go through this office, but this guy is sparking wildly erotic thoughts within her. "Are you an actor, Mr. Hunter? I'd be glad to accept your resume and headshots."

"Actually, I was hoping to meet Mr. Anton Schwartz?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hunter..."

"Call me Dylan."

""Dylan..." she says with a sigh. "Sorry, but Mr. Schwartz didn't come in today. The holiday, ya know. I'd be glad to make an appointment for Wednesday if you like? I'm very sure the boss will want to meet you."

"And I look forward to meeting him. I thought since I'm just starting out in acting, I'd have a better chance with someone who was also new to the show biz industry." Dylan says, having called Hi Greyson on his way to this downtown office. Hi, who knows everyone in the 'biz', assured Dylan he has never heard of a casting director named Anton Schwartz.

"I promise to bring your name to his attention bright and early on the 26th. Do you have your photos with you?"

"Sorry, silly me, I forgot. I'm still so new to all of this. For instance, I've never even seen the office of a real life Hollywood casting director. I don't suppose...?"

"You'd like to look inside? Sorry, but even if I wanted to, the door has a security lock. You have to know which three numbers to punch in to gain access. Only Mr. Schwartz knows that."

Dylan smiles and moves closer. "And a clever, beautiful woman like yourself never noticed the number? Please, it would mean so much to me. I'd be ever so grateful in so many ways..."

Maggie gulps nervously in response to Dylan's close proximity. What exactly is he suggesting they will do behind the closed doors of the private office? Maggie isn't sure, and she knows she is risking her job, but for a chance to make-out with this guy... Quickly, Maggie punches in the three digit code. The door clicks open and they enter. Maggie wonders, should she put up a pretence of modesty or just drag this stud to the couch...?

"Kind of a bare place for a private office."

Maggie looks around and gasps in dismay. "What happened here?"

The office is furnished with good quality furniture, but that is all that is present. Maggie continues, "All of the photographs, a couple of paintings, his books and desktop computer - all gone! Were we robbed?"

"When was the last time you were in here?"

"Friday, just before Mr. Schwartz left for the holidays. He isn't suppose to be back until Wednesday."

"I wouldn't count on his return."

"What do you mean?"

"How long has Mr. Schwartz been in business?"

"About three months."

"I imagine his lease runs out at the end of the year. Show business is a tough racket to get started in, and it looks like your boss has cut his losses and run."

"Then...I'm out of a job? He owes me two weeks pay!"

"Sorry. Maybe he'll send it to you?"

"Yeah, right. Now if you will excuse me, I have some office equipment to steal."

Maggie exits and Dylan begins looking around. All of the drawers in the large desk and the couple of file cabinets are empty, and the place has the appearance of being 'wiped down'. Dylan wouldn't be surprised if all fingerprints are gone and even tiny traces of D.N.A. have been carefully removed. If the police figure out Anton Schwartz's role in today's kidnapping, they will have a very cold trail to follow. Dylan assumes 'Schwartz' is a fake name and today's kidnapping was set up long in advance. So what should he do? He's not a detective or a specialist in forensics. Would he even recognize a clue if he saw one?

Dylan pauses, seeing what indeed might be a clue. He gets down on all fours and examines something under the desk. A tiny amout of sand...beach sand. Great, big help there. How many miles of beaches are nearby? Still, it looks rather familiar. Dylan glances at the bottom of his sneakers and sees another tiny amount of beach sand clinging there. It seems identical to the sand left behind by Schwartz. Could it be, the man is hiding out in Malibu? If Dylan saw this on a TV detective show he would dismiss it as poor plotting, but when God is involved...are there any coincidences?

X X X X X

In a modest hotel room in Las Vegas, Spencer Reid sighs heavily with relief as he collapses onto the bed. It has been a long stressful day, but that was not unexpected when he came to visit his mother at the private sanitarium where she was committed due to schizophrenia. It sometimes runs in families, and that is the greatest fear in Spencer's life. Like him, his mother is also a genius, but that didn't keep her from subcuming to the mental illness. Finally able to relax, Spencer begins checking the long list of messages that have accumulated on his phone during the day. Mother didn't like him taking time away from her to answer calls, and as always, he did all he could to keep her calm.

A couple of text messages from Penelope Garcia, the B.A.U.'s computer tech specialist. Garcia would be home, but she kept a link on her personal computer to the mainframes at the Bureau. It was strictly against the rules, but Garcia came to them after working as a professional hacker. Her idea of the rules had a lot of grey area. Hmm, some hits on the data collection he was doing involving missing children and possible satanic cult involvement. Before meeting Joan Girardi, Spencer had dismissed the idea of satanic cults as mere urban legends. Some of the things she said on the subject motivated him to check more deepily into the possibility. A couple of reports from two different police departments fell within the parameters of what he was looking for.

L.A.P.D. reported a missing girl, age twelve, taken three days ago. Today, a twelve year old boy was snatched from a crowded mall. The common factor that linked them? Both of them turn 13 on Christmas day. Another report, this time from the police in Joan's hometown. The body of a girl, taken a week ago from a small town called Marston, pulled from the river after being murdered in front of a witness. The poor child had also been raped. Spencer Reid's stomach turns as he reads the details, including the much too odd of a coincidence that this girl, Linda Alvarez, also would have turned 13 on Christmas. What did it all mean? Spencer shudders at the thought of what could be happening to these children. Since joining the Behavorial Analysis Unit he has seen some truly horrifying crimes.

Spencer checks his voice mail and smiles at the charmingly disingenuous message left by Joan. He thinks of the alluring and lovely young woman he met a couple of months ago. True, there were a lot of odd things about her, including some ill-defined psychic ability and a very unpleasant connection to the infamous director of Homeland Security's covert operations division, Issac Dunn. Still, he couldn't deny his attraction to Joan and the way the memory of her comes to him so often in his dreams. Spencer dials Joan's number...

"Spencer?"

"You have caller i.d.? Or is that more of your 'psychic' abilities?"

"Purely technology. I guess you got my goofy message?"

"I was delighted to hear from you, and I thought it was charming. By the way, Merry Christmas to you too."

"Thanks. How are you spending your holidays? Chasing down bad guys?"

"Actually, I'm in Las Vegas."

"Oh Spencer, please tell me you're not one of those people who go to Vegas every Christmas and party like it's spring break?"

"Las Vegas is my hometown. I'm spending Christmas with my mother."

Joan chuckles. "Silly me, I forgot that ordinary people live and work there and it's not all casinos and wild fun."

"It is actually a fine community in which to live and raise children - says the voice of experience. So Joan, I was wondering, the last time we talked you said you needed more time before you would consider dating. Maybe...?"

"I...think it's time for me to try. You know, a get on with my life kind of thing."

"As I recall, I made an offer to go for coffee."

"Well, considering the distance between Arcadia and Quantico..."

"Something more than coffee?" Spencer asks with a big smile. "Did you have a suggestion?"

"Just to toss out an idea, if it's not too late and you have no firm plans..."

"New Year's Eve?"

"Uh, yeah. Look, I'd understand if this is too much for a first date."

"Are you kidding? If I were texting, I'd be sending you an L.W.J."

"L.W.J.?"

"Leaping With Joy. Fair warning, I am at best a mediocre dancer."

Joan laughs. "I can work with that. So, I'll give you some time to consider the details and we can talk again?"

"Definitely. And Joan, I'm really looking forward to this." Spencer says with another big smile on his face.

To her own surprise, Joan smiles and honestly replies, "Me too."

X X X X X

Shortly before midnight, God calls upon Grace. Her 'essence' rises from her sleeping body and she pauses to confirm that Luke is sleeping peacefully. She moves on to the nursery just long enough to see that Annie and E.T. are okay. Annie is sleeping while sucking her thumb - a new behavior for her (maybe due to the loss of Bun-nee?). E.T. appears to be having yet another of her bad dreams, and Annie's favorite toy has been kicked out of the crib. Grace decides she will get it back for her daughter before they leave for Boston, even if she has to sneak Bun-nee out of the Girardi house.

Grace moves on, being guided by God, and she feels relieved. It has been awhile since God has called on her and she worried that she and God were 'on the outs'. Grace rises a few hundred feet into the air and heads north. The trip is short and Grace recognizes the nearby bedroom community of Marston. Marston is all middle class and above, a haven from the crime and corruption of Arcadia. Those who can afford it gladly make the commute to jobs in the city. It is not the sort of place where you expect to find terrible crimes.

Grace comes to rest in front of a house where an informal shrine of candles and flowers has been errected at curbside. The name on the mailbox reads: Alvarez. Grace knows the name, the local news has been covering the story all day. One week ago Linda Alvarez was taken in the middle of the night from this home. Grace remembers the date very well. It was the night she was on the moon looking at old NASA junk for Luke.

Grace rises again and heads south. At the river she goes downstream and pauses in mid-air over an isolated part of the river. There is no marker this time, but Grace realizes this is where Linda Alvarez was murdered and dumped overboard - while she was on Mars. Before Grace can do anything, she turns again and this time goes upstream. She travels until she comes to Mercer Creek and then follows that until she comes to the lower levels of Mount Nashman. Grace, travelling above the forest, notes the many trails and rough mountain roads. There are a lot of isolated cabins in this area, and Grace hovers above one that is particularly far from all others.

Going through the thick log wall of the back of the cabin, Grace pauses in a tiny room. There is a closed door and no windows - no source of heat either. A cot is the only furniture, and a large metal ring affixed to the wall still holds the chains that must have secured the Alvarez girl in this sad, cold place. The pathetic stain in the center of the cot tells the rest of this horrible story. Grace desperately wishes she could cry, but she cannot in this form. She does hear voices coming from the other side of the door and travels into the main room of the cabin.

Two men are sitting across from each other at a table, and a small black bag is between them. A cheery fire burns in the fireplace, but one of the men still has on his jacket, gloves and hat. The men speak in low, serious tones. The visitor has a Germanic accent...

"You were suppose to call on me. I am in charge of disposal." says The Disposer.

"I know, but I panicked. I've never gotten a call from the Chairman himself. When he said they knew what I did..."

"What did you expect? After all of these years, it really came as a surprise to you that your activities were being monitored?"

"It did. I thought I was trusted."

"None of us are fully trusted, and your actions prove the wisdom of that. You know the rules. It has to be a child who turns 13 on Christmas day, and...a virgin! Why do you think you are paid so much to procure for the council? So you can sully the merchandise with your filthy touch?"

The Procurer whines, "I didn't see what difference it made. The girl was going to die anyway, so why let the opportunity go to waste?"

"Why? Because the council says so. If you need a better reason than that, then you should consider a career change."

"No, no - of course not. Just how much trouble am I in?"

"That depends on whether or not the police are on your trail."

"I wore a mask and gloves."

"And can you guarantee not a scrap of your D.N.A. was left behind in the boat?"

"I made sure to steal one of the boats used for public rentals. There will be D.N.A. from dozens, maybe hundreds of people. Even if mine is found, I can always claim I was once a guest on the boat."

The Disposer nods. "Not bad. That leaves the clothes you wore and the gun."

"In the bag as you requested."

The Disposer looks in the bag. "Okay, this situation may be salvageable. The bag will go to the bottom of Lake Nashman, which is closeby and very deep. In the meantime, the council is angrily demanding that it be supplied with the promised merchandise before the ritual tomorrow night."

Detecting the exasperation in his colleague's voice The Procurer asks, "Is there something else going on?"

"It's turning into a difficult season. A somewhat similar situation has occured with the west coast council."

"Their procurer messed around with one of the kids too?"

"No. The girl was no longer a virgin all on her own." (He tsks.) "Twelve years old! What is the world coming to? Anyway, their procurer had to go with the backup target."

"Do we have a backup?"

"Of course. We plan for all contingencies. If you want to keep your job, you will secure the next target before sunrise and with no more complications. Needless to say, you will not be paid for this snatch." The Disposer says as he hands over a file folder.

The Procurer examines the file. "A boy?"

"I know, girls are preferred, but there is a limited number of kids turning 13 on Christmas day. And trust me, this weird looking kid is definitely a virgin. Can you handle this, because I put my own neck on the line vouching for you."

"Absolutely. I won't let you down. I have to admit, I've been really scared. When I got caught doing...'that', I thought the council might order me killed. I swear, I've learned my lesson."

"Good. Familarize yourself with the file. You will need to leave within the hour."

The Procurer focuses on the file and Grace, who has been listening to all of this, decides to move closer so she can read the name of the next victim. Before she can get there, The Disposer reaches into the black bag and removes the revolver. Swiftly, he places the gun barrel under the other man's chin and pulls the trigger. Blood sprays everywhere - some of it passing through Grace's astral form as she gasps in horror.

The Disposer retrieves the file, carries it to the fireplace and tosses it into the flames. He removes a note from his jacket pocket and places it in front of the dead body. Automatically, Grace reads the message: 'I AM A MONSTER. I CAN'T LIVE WITH WHAT I'VE DONE. GOD FORGIVE ME.' The gun goes into the dead man's hand.

The Disposer leaves the cabin and Grace is pulled back to her body, wishing she had seen the name of the next kidnap victim. The Disposer muses that he doesn't need the file. He has an excellent memory. He will have to handle the kidnapping himself, something he hasn't had to do in a long time, but he remembers how. Too bad for you...Nathan Friedman.

To Be Continued. Please Review.

(Thanks to Charles the Bold for suggesting that Luke wouldn't be able to resist experimenting with Grace's power.)


	2. Chapter 2

CHRISTMAS

(12-25-07/Tuesday.)

2:00 a.m.

Luke and Grace discuss her latest time of astral travel…

"We have to do something!"

"Grace, I agree with the sentiment, but what can we do? We can send an anonymous message to the sheriff's department or the Arcadia police, but what would we say?"

"That a child is going to be kidnapped before sunrise."

"Which child? What location? Who is the culprit?"

"I don't know! But there must be something… What about the murder? That guy killed a man right in front of me." Grace says with a shudder.

"Can you identify where the crime took place?"

"No. I only know it took place in a remote cabin on the south side of Mt. Nashman."

"And there must be hundreds of cabins in that area. Even if we could somehow convince the police to start looking, it could take a week to find the right place."

Grace sighs. "This is so frustrating. Some kid is going to be kidnapped, or may already have been taken, and there's nothing we can do even though I know what the kidnapper looks like."

"Can you describe him sufficiently to have him picked up by the cops?"

"Again, no. He's one of those non-descript people you can pass by a dozen times a day without noticing: medium height and weight, dark hair and with a slight European accent – probably German."

"That's too vague to be of any use. Maybe if we went over your experience again, we can find a vital clue we've missed?"

"Okay…one more time. I first went to Marston to the house of that young girl who was kidnapped last week, and then directly to the river at the site where she was murdered and dumped."

"I've been wondering about that, Grace. Since you travel in real time, there is no way you could change those outcomes, so why did God send you to those sites?"

Grace sadly replies, "I think I was being given an object lesson on responsibility. When Linda Alvarez was being kidnapped last week, I was on the moon. Yesterday, while she was being taken to the river, I was on Mars."

Luke groans, "Oh God, then her death is my fault! If I hadn't had you off playing Star Trek, you would have been available to help."

"Luke, you can't think that way. Only God is omniscient. We couldn't have foreseen this outcome, but we can take it as a lesson learned. God gave me this ability so I could serve him on his schedule, not mine. No more treating it like a fun toy to play with."

"Agreed. So, what happened next?"

"I travelled upstream until I came to the forest at the base of Mt. Nashman. I went up the mountain and eventually entered a very remote cabin where I saw that tiny, freezing cold room where the girl was held prisoner…and raped."

Grace begins to cry and Luke takes her into his arms. After a few minutes Grace begins to calm down, but Luke is still concerned. With Grace's history of having been molested as a child, perhaps this experience is too much for her to deal with? Maybe he should contact Dr. John Hunter, the only other person to know about Grace's ability…

Grace continues, "I went into the main room and saw two men talking at a table. One of them was a visitor since he was still dressed for outside. He was the one with the German accent. They were discussing the fate of the Alvarez girl and how the people employing them were mad as hell at the original kidnapper for raping the girl. Apparently this group is really insistent the girl has to be a virgin."

"Are there any details about this group?"

"Only that they are referred to as a 'council' and that there is a west coast council that is up to the same thing. Both groups were having trouble securing a girl virgin and were having to 'settle' for boys. The killer mentioned they had to secure a new kid so the council can have him for some sort of ceremony Christmas night."

"It sounds like a type of…cult. Are there any details about which boy they are going after?"

Grace pauses, thinking. "Yeah, they said the kid has to be turning 13 today just like the Alvarez girl."

"You didn't mention that before…" Luke says as he pulls out his cell phone and dials a number. "It's on speaker."

After a few moments a sleepy voice asks, "Luke? Buddy, do you realize what time it is?"

"Friedman, I need you to do something for me."

"This had better be monstrously important."

"Go to your brother Nathan's room and check if he's okay."

"Do what? Are you drunk?"

"Friedman please, trust me. This is important."

"I can't check on him. I'm…not home."

A female voice yawns and adds, "He's spending the night with me."

"Dillon?"

"Do you know any other girls Theodore spends the night with?" Dillon Samuels asks with a hint of concern.

"No, no – of course not. Friedman, I still need you to call your brother."

"Why?"

"I'm asking you to trust me."

Friedman sighs heavily. "Babe, hand me your phone." (A pause.) "It's ringing… Voice mail. Sorry Luke."

"What about the landline to your house?"

"That would wake everyone. My parents would not be too happy about that. If you could explain?"

"Uh…"

Grace says, "Maybe if you told Friedman about your 'dream'?"

"Dream…right, my dream. Friedman, do you remember me telling you about how my Grandma Anne would sometimes have prophetic dreams?"

"I think so."

"Well, I just has a horrible nightmare about Nathan being kidnapped."

"This is all because you had a bad dream?"

"Friedman, I'm begging you. If I must, I'll go to your house and bang on the front door."

"Fine, I'll call but you are taking the heat for this from my parents..." (Another pause.) "Hello, Mom?" I'm sorry to wake you... No, I'm fine. Mom, could you please check on Nathan for me? No...I can't explain, not sensibly. Please?"

There is another long pause and then Luke and Grace clearly hear a gasp of horror.

X X X X X

4:00 a.m.

Will Girardi arrives at the Friedman house, which is only a dozen blocks from his own home. He vaguely knows the Friedmans as the parents of his son's best friend and has met them on a handful of occasions. He never could have imagined visiting their home for such a terrible reason. Will is greeted by Captain Chadwick, who hands him a cup of coffee from a thermos. Will gratefully sips the coffee but immediately winces. It is undeniably coffee from the station, and there is no worse coffee than cop coffee.

"Report?"

"Nathan Friedman, age 13 as of today, was taken sometime before 2:00 a.m. from his own bed with no one hearing anything."

"Wait, Nathan turns 13 today, the same as the Alvarez girl?"

"Yeah, I thought that strange too. I sent in a report to the F.B.I. to see if this was part of a pattern, but with it being Christmas..."

"It may be days before they get back to us. Okay, any useful clues?"

"None. Whoever did this was a pro. He stole a ladder from the Friedman's garage and jimmied open the window to the kid's bedroom. No fingerprints, and the tracker dog could only trail him to the curb."

"Okay, keep digging. See if there is any other connections between the two victims beside their ages."

"Alright, Chief. Will, is it true your son saw this in a dream?"

"That's what he claimed when he woke me up. His grandmother on my wife's side always claimed she had prophetic dreams, but I never put much stock in it. God, I hate the psychic stuff."

"Should we also distribute the description he provided?"

"Quietly, amongst the members of the force only. I don't want the press to get wind of this. The last thing my family needs is a media circus parked on our front lawn."

"Yeah, you don't need that type of publicity a week before you announce for mayor... Sorry Will, I know that won't play any part in your decisions."

Will nods, but he is not so sure. Ever since he made the decision to enter the political arena, he has begun second guessing a lot of his decisions. If the media catches on to Luke's involvement in this case, that might lead to the truth about Helen and her own prophetic dreams. Dreams he has occasionally acted on...

"I'm going to leave all of the decision making on this case in your hands, Captain. Now, I have to see if I can offer any comfort to a grieving family..."

X X X X X

Later that morning, Luke and Grace pause on the back stairs for a whispered conversation...

"Grace, we are really on thin ice with this dream story. What were we thinking?"

"We weren't. We were making it up as we went along. If we had more time, we could have come up with a better story, or we at least could have claimed the dream was mine. Is it true your grandmother had prophetic dreams?"

"That's what Grandma Anne always claimed, but most of the people around her merely humored her about her predictions."

"Did any of them ever come true?"

"A few. Like a lot of people, Grandma would often have dreams about bad things happening to those she knew. Unlike most people, she would always give a warning: 'Avoid that route to work, don't take that flight, have your brakes checked', etcetera. By sheer weight of numbers, a few of the dreams would contain elements of truth."

"I shouldn't have made the suggestion about you having a dream."

"I wasn't coming up with any better ideas, and now we are stuck with this. Let's hope we can carry it off."

Luke and Grace complete their descent of the stairs and find Helen busy making breakfast. Annie sits in a booster seat at the table watching E.T. playing with 'Bun-nee'. E.T. pretends to enjoy the toy because she knows Annie wants it back.

"Good morning you two, Merry Christmas."

Luke and Grace return the greeting. Grace hugs Annie while Luke heads for a seat next to his daughter...

"No Daddy, Yah-Yah sits there."

Luke, use to this by now, automatically switches to another chair. Grace frowns but chooses not to make an issue of Annie's imaginary friend. Helen chuckles...

"How that takes me back. I remember Joan when she was a little older than Annie saying the exact same..."

Helen pauses in a moment of revealation. Why hasn't she seen this before? For weeks she has heard of Annie adopting as her own Joan's old childhood imaginary friend. The same imaginary friend little Joan use to say always looked like different people, just as the grown-up Joan now sees God. Then Annie too...? And now Luke is having prophetic dreams just like her? What is happening to her family?

"Mama Girardi, are you still with us?"

"Oh, sorry. I was having a nostalgic moment there. Pancakes okay with everyone?"

As Helen resumes cooking, Luke asks, "Is there any word from Dad?"

"He called and is on his way home. I know he wants to talk to you, my suddenly psychic son."

Luke blushes but says nothing. Grace joins Helen in preparing breakfast. A couple of minutes later Will enters from the back door...

"Merry Christmas everyone." Will says as he gives Helen a quick kiss. "No Joan?"

"Went jogging."

Luke, Grace and Annie return the Christmas greeting as Will fills his favorite mug (the one with Kevin, Joan and Luke's faces on the side) with fresh coffee. He goes to the table and just as he is about to sit...

"No Grandpa, Yah-Yah sits there."

Will chuckles and moves to another chair. "That really takes me back. I remember when Joan..."

"We've already covered this, Will." Helen says.

"Okay...that brings us to the next topic of conversation. Luke, since when are you psychic?"

Luke gulps and responds, "I'm not, Dad. Since I've had time to think this through, I believe I now have a reasonable explanation."

"I'm all ears."

"I spent a lot of yesterday following the coverage of the girl who was kidnapped and murdered."

"Linda Alvarez."

"Right. There were mentions of the girl turning thirteen on Christmas day. Somewhere in the back of mind I knew that Friedman's kid brother Nathan was also turning 13 today. While I was sleeping, my subconscious linked these two facts and that caused concern to form in my sleeping mind, which manifested in the form of a dream."

"That makes sense...but, you described the kidnapper."

"Uh..."

Grace hastily adds, "That vague description might as well fit any movie script's version of: 'non-descript henchman'."

Luke nods. "Of course, that must be it. I mean, medium height and weight with a foreign accent? How cliche can my suconscious get?"

Will breathes a sigh of relief. "That's more like it. For a moment I thought we were straying into the Twilight Zone."

Helen places a stack of pancakes in front of Will and gives him a subtle wink. "Yes, we wouldn't want to start believing in prophetic dreams, would we?"

After Will fills everyone in on the lack of progress, breakfast begins. While everyone is eating, Annie tells her grandparents the fascinating details of the latest book she has read - all about a monkey named Curious George. All attention focuses on Annie, and the loving admiration she recieves is unmistakeable, especially to E.T. Eleanor becomes filled with anger and jealousy. 'She's doing it again, taking away the attention that belongs to me!' E.T. shoves Bun-nee off of the high chair shelf and it sails across the table, landing on Will's coffee cup. The cup falls over and rolls off of the table, smashing.

"Bun-nee!" Annie cries out in dismay.

"Oh crap." Will mutters as he jumps back with coffee staining his clothes. "And my favorite cup! I've had it for years."

Helen and Grace spring into 'mom mode' and the mess is quickly cleaned. Grace dries Bun-nee with paper towels - the grey & white bunny is now half tan.

Grace comments, "This will never come fully clean."

While Annie glares at E.T., her aunt returns the gaze with a grin. There, that should convince you never to take the spotlight away from me. This is my kingdom, and only I matter. No other.

X X X X X

God. It has to be.

Joan was awaken like the rest of the household by the news of the Nathan Friedman kidnapping. As she expected, Joan soon received a phone call from Friedman asking the help of the instrument of God. There was nothing she could do at the moment since there was no way to intrude upon the early hours of an investigation in progress, but Joan promised her help. When her tutor failed to show at sunrise, Joan played a hunch and travelled to mid-town park anyway. There she saw a man dressed as Santa Claus sitting on the same park bench she used yesterday. Of course it was not unsual to see men dressed as Santa this time of year, but this one has to be God. Her tutor is in a kow-tow before Santa...

Joan hesitates a moment. "I don't have to sit in your lap, do I?"

"Ho-ho-ho, not if you don't want to, Joan."

Joan sits beside Santa God and sighs. "I've messed up, haven't I?"

"In what way, Joan?"

"These kidnappings. Some monster is going about the area taking children. I should have picked up on that, but somehow I missed it. A demon that strong, I should have noticed the moment he arrived in town."

"Who says it was a demon, Joan? Evil comes in many forms. For instance, a group of people who having willingly corrupted their souls in order to serve an evil master. Such people would be spiritually drawn to a city with...?"

"A spirit of corruption." Joan says, realizing now the meaning of yesterday's lecture from her tutor. "It seems I have failed to make proper progress in my training. Is this why I failed to detect what was going on? Failed to notice the presence of...a satanic cult?"

"You have always done good work, Joan."

"A vague response. It reminds me of those notes my teachers use to send to my parents: 'Joan could do better if she applied herself'."

"There is always room for improvement."

"In the meantime, Nathan's life is on the line. You know everything. Can't you just tell me where he is?"

"Of course. I could also put on a cape and mask and play super-hero, but is that my way?"

Joan shakes her head. "No, you use those who will act in faith, and not even God breaks his own rules. Maybe a hint?"

"Maybe. But first, I understand you have recently been reprimanded. Do you have a complaint?"

Joan looks to her tutor-angel and wonders what would happen if she complained? Despite the blow to her ego, yesterday's reprimand has left her with only a couple of oddly shaped bruises on her buttocks. Maybe it was the wake up call she needed?

"No complaints."

"Very well, Joan."

Santa God stands and snow begins swirling all about them. A moment later a sleigh with eight reindeer appears out of the sky and comes to a landing in front of them. Joan stares with her mouth hanging open. She notes an enormous empty sack in the back of the sleigh. Another reindeer appears from among the trees - this one has a glowing red nose. Santa hooks up this reindeer to the front of the pack and climbs into the sleigh.

Joan cries out, "Wait, you forgot the hint."

With a twinkle in his eye, Santa God replies, "Did I, Joan?"

With a crack of the whip, the team of now nine reindeer moves forward, gathers speed and sails into the air, quickly disappearing into the low grey clouds. Joan turns around and sees her tutor is in a lotus position. Joan returns to the bench and copies the position.

"Okay, now what?"

"Clear your mind. Strengthen your spirit. Be open to all there is."

Joan does her best to comply. Clearing as much from her mind as she can, Joan begins with spiritual meditation. The biblical version is not much removed from all other types. Joan's 'mantra' is a bible verse, endlessly muttered while remaining open to revealation on meaning. She chooses: 'Ask and ye shall receive, seek and ye shall find'. Time passes, but Joan has no idea how much. She can feel her spiritual side growing and with it, her abilities. On a limited scale, Joan has done all of this before, but she does not enjoy the experience. The mix of good and bad, spiritual and natural buffets her soul, causing her an intense level of distress. Slowly, she becomes aware of a subtle level of evil that has gone under the radar with her up until now. The best she can come up with is a direction - northwest and somewhere outside of the city. The rest is foggy, but no doubt if she had been putting in the practice she needs, she would be better at this. Joan also becomes acutely aware that she is being watched...by a vampire.

X X X X X

Back on the office building rooftop and watching the park, Pansy Schubert stares in awe at what she has seen. Santa Claus is real, and friends with Joan Girardi? Truly, she must be going mad. The swirling snow prevented Pansy from recording the event below, but honestly, she was in too much shock to even try. She will definitely not be reporting this incident to 'General Smith'. Financial bonuses will not be coming to a vampire who has lost her mind. Joan leaves the park, headed toward her home. No doubt she will spend the rest of the day with family, snug in her house. Pansy decides to return to the cheap motel where she is residing. Her daily message to the General will be short and sweet: nothing to report. For her own Christmas, Pansy will treat herself to a medical bag filled with a rare blood type and maybe watch: 'It's A Wonderful Life'.

X X X X X

Dr. John Hunter is dreaming. He wonders what he will see as he recalls the message from last night: keep all secrets. John has identified the little girl from his previous dream as Annie Girardi, Luke and Grace's daughter. Another secret he must keep. Their daughter is obviously destined to be an instrument of God. John takes in his surroundings and is surprised to find himself back in the white glass room a second night in a row. He also realizes he is in one of those dreams where he is to be an observer only.

In the distance John recognizes his son Dylan, dressed as a knight in shining armor. He is upon a noble steed, and Lord is there giving Dylan instructions, but they are too far away for John to hear the words. Dylan lowers the visor on his helment, readies his lance and charges. John sees that Dylan is charging at three giant sized numbers: 6-6-6. Just as Dylan is about to strike the numbers, they collapse upon him, crushing John's son. Dr. Hunter cries out in dismay.

The scene resets itself, and repeats exactly as the first time. Again Dylan is crushed by the three numbers. John wonders why this is happening as the scene again resets itself. Dylan begins his charge once more, but something is different this time. One of the numbers transforms into a woman wearing a...'cat-suit'. At least that is how John sees it - one of those skintight, black outfits you see in movies where the female lead is a super hero or spy. The woman is Elaine Lishack. This time as Dylan arrives at the numbers, Elaine keeps them from falling on Dylan. He pierces them with his lance, and they deflate like balloons. Lord, dressed in biblical style robes, applauds. He looks over to John, gives him a thumbs-up, and the dream fades away...

John awakens in his bed and gasps. His own son is an instrument of God! Why would Dylan keep this from him? John shakes his head - has he ever shared his own charism with Dylan? And now that he knows, he must continue to keep all of these secrets. God has Dylan on a dangerous assignment, and for some reason only that quirky science teacher Elaine Lishack, that he barely knows from Arcadia High, can help his son. John hastily dresses and goes downstairs to the den. He is surprised to see Dylan looking through the newspaper while the TV blares on the all news channel and the computer is at a website dedicated to the study of satanic cults.

"Merry Christmas, Dylan. You're up awfully early."

Dylan looks up and frowns. "It's morning already?"

"Of course. Dylan, have you been to bed?"

"No Dad, I've been watching the news all night."

"Is this about the kidnapping of that child yesterday? Dylan, I know this is upsetting, but you can't become obsessed over a matter that barely touched your life."

Dylan hesitates. How could he explain that he thinks God sent him to the Westward Mall to stop that kidnapping, and he failed? "You're right, but I can't seem to let it go. I have this feeling that I saw something yesterday that was a vital clue, but I can't put my finger on it. I'm hoping the news reports will jog loose whatever is stuck in my subconscious mind."

"If you actually saw anything. Guilt may be convincing you that you have a memory which simply isn't there."

"Maybe... Wait, here's another report."

On the TV a blonde woman, identified by the scroll on the bottom of the screen as Deputy Police Chief Johnson, speaks. "This is our latest update on the kidnapping of Alan Bartlett at the Westward Mall yesterday morning. We are currently seeking a man calling himself 'Anton Schwartz' as seen in this artist's sketch. For the last three months Schwartz has been operating a phony casting director's office for what we believe was the intent of meeting potential child actors who fit a certain profile of his...'type'. We can connect Schwartz to Alan Bartlett, and Tanya Jones who was kidnapped four days ago. We now know Schwartz is a phony name and no photographs of the man are known to exist. We are asking the public, if you have any knowledge of this so-called Anton Schwartz, contact us at the number appearing on the bottom of the screen. We have nothing else to report, and I will not be taking questions."

Chief Johnson steps away from the camera and the picture goes back to the news desk. Dylan switches off the TV and begins entering searches in the computer for the earlier kidnap victim, Tanya Jones...

"Dylan..."

"I can't let it go, Dad."

Dr. Hunter nods. "Okay, but remember this is Christmas morning, and your sister and Kevin will be arriving for breakfast soon. I expect you to make an equal effort at honoring the holiday and this family time."

"Sure Dad." Dylan replies in a distracted manner.

Dr. Hunter sighs, digs out an old adress book from his desk and heads for the kitchen. He is soon trying to reach Elaine Lishack...

X X X X X

In the Venice Beach loft apratment shared by Kevin Girardi and Barbara Greyson, the aroma of coffee fills the air as Barbara slowly comes awake. She sniffs the air and smiles. Kevin is up before her, and he makes great coffee. Christmas morning - one of her favorite times of the year. When she was a kid, Mom and Step-dad always made it a great day, and she would also have waiting under the tree an expensive present from her real dad (she didn't learn until years later that it was Hi Greyson's secretary who use to pick out all of her Christmas and birthday presents). Still, she enjoys the day even now. Barbara smiles in anticipation of Kevin's reaction when he sees her gift for him - a video game that is sold out everywhere and supposedly impossible to get for several more weeks.

Barbara rises and enters the kitchen. She sees Kevin rubbing his legs - they sometimes caused him pain. Lately, Kevin has cut back on his physical therapy due to the demands of work, and he is paying the price physically. She is going to have to put her foot down on this...

"Morning Kev, Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, beautiful." Kevin responds as they share a kiss.

"How are the legs?"

"A little stiff in the morning, but they loosen up as the day goes along."

Barbara pours herself a cup of coffee. "You know you are suppose to be having physical therapy three times a week."

"It wasn't doing me any good. I've stopped making any progress in my recovery. Besides, when do I have the time?"

"I know you're busy, and I understand you're frustrated your recovery has stalled, but that's no reason to stop the therapy. You don't want to start regressing, do you?"

"Of course not. I'll get back into my usual routine when the holidays are over. Speaking of which, I have a special present for you."

"Kev, you know we're suppose to exchange presents after we get to John's house."

"This item is a little too personal to spring on you in a group."

"Ooh, lingerie?"

"Not exactly." Kevin says with a smile as he removes a small jewelry box from his robe's pocket. He opens it, displaying an impressive diamond ring. "Barbara, I love you with all of my heart. Will you marry me?"

Barbara takes the jewelry box and stares at the ring for a moment. She snaps the box shut. "Are you kidding me? Why would you ruin Christmas with this nonsense?"

X X X X X

Steven Chadwick, principal of Arcadia High, stares out the front window of his home, hoping for the early return of his wife Toni. It has been an adjustment getting use to being married to a cop, and now that Toni has been promoted to chief detective, the demands on her time are even greater. Steven tries to not let this bother him, after all, he knows the Friedman family. The eldest son Theodore was class valedictorian two years ago, and a younger brother David is a sophmore this year. Still, it would be nice if Toni could use some of her new found authority to delegate some of the work - at least for Christmas. They have relatives from both sides of the family coming over this afternoon. The phone rings and Steven quickly checks the caller i.d. - Dr. John Hunter? Why would the district's former head psychiatrist be calling him on Christmas day?

"Hello?"

"Steven, John Hunter. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you, John. It has been awhile."

"Yes, and I'm sorry to disturb you and Toni's holiday."

"Not a problem. Toni was called away on a big case. A local boy has been kidnapped."

John hesitates for a moment. "How awful. I wish your wife well on her investigation. Now, as to the reason for my call: I'm trying to reach Elaine Lishack. She has no local listing in Arcadia, and I don't have her cell phone number."

"No problem. I'll look it up...and you're in luck. As I recall, Elaine said she would be spending the Christmas holiday in you part of the country. She's visiting Dana Tuchman, the father of her child."

"That is indeed fortunate..."

X X X X X

The delay on getting started on her search was annoying but inevitable. Joan went back to the house to get her truck, but Will spotted her and insisted she join them for the Christmas morning orgy of present unwrapping. He even used that 'I'm still your father' tone of voice. It would have taken too long to come up with an explanation and argue the matter out, so Joan joined in on the fun. She stayed only long enough to pose for pictures, give thank-you's for her presents and receive the same back. Joan's hasty departure raised a few eyebrows, but then she was the 'weird one' in the family. Joan promised to be home in time for dinner - goose instead of the usual ham out of respect for a Jewish daughter-in-law. Joan wasn't sure if she could make it back, but she would face the music on that if she had to.

Focusing her ability to detect evil, Joan first travels to The Purple Ace Motel, a dingy place on the south side of town. Joan realized the hint Santa God gave her was his own version of 'Rudolph'. According to the song, Rudolph guided Santa's sleigh on a particularly foggy night. It occured to Joan that a vampire's superior senses were just what she needed in her 'foggy' search to find the missing Nathan Friedman. Now, if only she can get the vampire to co-operate. Just in case, Joan has in her bag a sharpened stake and the fireplace lighter set at its' highest level. The stake can only paralyze a vampire, but even the smallest flame was a risk to their kind as they burn very fast. Joan hopes she will not have to kill the vampire - always an awkward thing. The two quickest ways to kill a vamp are beheading or fire. Problem is, the resulting corpse or pile of ashes and bone fragments would be seen as human by a medical examiner. The claim of having killed a vampire would not fly at the subsequent murder trial, except maybe as an insanity defense. Besides, Joan needs this vampire's services.

Pansy Schubert sleeps the deep sleep of all vampires, and it was cheap too! Normally when travelling a vampire can only get cold enough to sleep by filling a bathtub with ice cubes - expensive, and it always raised suspicion. But, with the temperatures still below freezing, all Pansy has to do is turn off the room's feeble space heater and open the windows.

The knock at the door is loud and persistent. It is almost as if the one knocking knows how hard it is to awaken a sleeping vampire. For appearances sake, Pansy closes all of the windows. If it is the weekly maid service, she will send them away. Pansy opens the door and gasps...

"You!"

"Me?" Joan asks as she boldly enters the room, causing Pansy to retreat. Joan pauses, seeing the room is filled with photo print outs of her and her activities over the last few days. There are even images of some of her meetings with the various versions of God. "Wow, a stalker. I guess I should be flattered."

"How did you find me, Miss Girardi? I kept far enough away that no person could have detected my presence."

"If you've been following me as long as these photos indicate, then you know I'm...unusual. And call me 'Joan'. You are...?"

"Pansy."

Joan just manages not to snicker at the old fashioned name. "I'll get to the point, Pansy. Two local children have gone missing - one of them is now dead. I know some vampires have a preference for young blood..."

Pansy gasps, horrified. "I would never...! I don't even hunt. My needs are met by blood banks and morgues."

Joan can tell it is true. Normally vampires are hard to read, but this one has retained a lot of her humanity. No doubt when she was human, she was a gentle soul - making her an odd choice for someone to be turned into a vampire.

"Okay, I believe you. It was a long shot anyway. You're here obviously spying on me, and I won't ask for whom, but I'm going to give you a chance to do some good with your vampire skills for a change. Help me find the missing boy."

Pansy shakes her head. "If you really know my kind, then you know our number one rule..."

"Maintain the secret. You don't have to worry there, Pansy. There are no other vampires in Arcadia that you would have to answer to."

That is true, Pansy thinks. A town of just under a hundred thousand was too small to maintain a vampire community. Generally a city has to be a half million or more to attract vampires - otherwise, it was too hard to hide the rising death rate. Of course properly, Pansy should kill Joan for knowing the vampire secret, but her heart rebels at such a thought. She has never murdered anyone before and doubts she could go through with it or get away with it.

"I'm sorry. I'd like to help, but the risk of exposure is too great."

Joan looks at the cheap motel room, Pansy's worn clothing and the evidence she has been hired to spy on Joan (who has a few suspects in mind, but shelves speculation for later). "I'll pay you. Two thousand dollars for a day's work."

Pansy hesitates, calculating how much blood she can buy with an extra two grand. "You have that much cash?"

"Not on me, but I'll withdraw it from the bank first thing in the morning. What do you say? I know in your heart you would like to help."

"Very well, for two thousand dollars, I'll help you find the missing boy." Pansy says as she holds out her hand to seal the deal.

Joan shakes her head. "One condition, we never touch."

Pansy shrugs, knowing many humans abhor the touch of a vampire. She is unaware Joan is protecting her. Joan's spiritual shield protects her from all sorts of bad things that go bump in the night, and any vampire that touches her will go down screaming in agony.

X X X X X

Breakfast at the Hunter household was awkward beyond belief. No one could miss the painful strain between Kevin and Barbara. Normally they were lovey-dovey to the point of making others nauseous, but today they can't make eye contact and have nothing to say to each other. Dr. Hunter wonders if he should do something, offer to help in some way. As much as he disapproves of their living arrangement, he is fond of Kevin and concedes he has been good for his beloved stepdaughter.

"Great breakfast, John." Kevin comments, breaking the silence.

"Thank you, Kevin. If everyone has had enough, we can move on to the living room to open presents."

Kevin and John rise, but Barbara says, "We'll join you in a minute Step-dad, but first I want a word with my 'little' brother."

Kevin doesn't look back as he leaves, but Dr. Hunter hesitates. He has been so concerned about the Kevin/Barbara strain, he has missed the tension between Dylan and Barbara. Normally their time together is filled with joking good fun, but they too have been silent with each other. So far, this has been an unusually unpleasant Christmas. Not wanting to be rude to Kevin, Dr. Hunter leaves the kitchen while wondering why a family counselor always has the hardest time dealing with his own family.

Now alone, Dylan sighs. "Just how much trouble am I in with you? I'm sorry I abandoned you yesterday at the holiday party from hell."

"Oh, then you do remember you were suppose to be my early exit strategy? What posessed you to dump me like that? I ended up being the last to leave when Hi drove me home."

Dylan hesitates. He always hates it when he has to lie to cover his tracks as an instrument of God. "Again, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to leave you stranded. I actually did have a little Christmas shopping to do, and I thought I would be back after a quick run to the mall. But then a child was kidnapped and the police shut down the whole place..."

"Wait, is this the same kid I heard about on the news?"

"Yes, a 13 year old boy named Alan Bartlett was taken and the cops questioned everyone before letting them leave. It took forever to get out of there. Sorry."

"Forgiven. That poor kid... Well, I can't blame you for that. And, as it turned out, I didn't have such a bad time."

"Really? I thought you couldn't stand being around your four ex stepmothers and your other half-brothers."

Barbara smiles. "Normally true, but do you remember I told you we were going to play a home version of the new game show Hi is producing? Turns out, it's a lot of fun."

"It must be a heck of a game if you had a good time with the Greyson clan."

"It is. It's called 'Rapid Dough'. Basically, it's your standard answering trivia questions for cash game, but with a few twists. Every question you get right doubles your money, every wrong answer cuts it in half. At the end, only the highest score wins any money. But, the rules allow you to make secret alliances with other players so that your scores can be combined. And, you can double cross others by making more than one alliance which your 'partners' won't know until the last moments of the show. No one really knows who is going to win until the back stabbing is revealed."

Dylan shakes his head. "It sounds like the worse possible mix of game show greed and reality TV."

"Exactly. This show will be a huge hit." Barbara says with a laugh.

Dylan smiles. "I'm glad you had a good time with the Greyson side of your family for a change."

"Me too, and I owe it all to you. Hi thought you did it deliberately in order to force me to interact with my family, and he was grateful it worked out that way."

"But..."

"Yes I know, circumstances beyond your control. Still, Hi sent along a gift for you as a thank-you. It's a couple of applications to be on Rapid Dough. They have Hi's initials and a code number on them, so the people at the show who handles this stuff will know to give you top priority."

"Barbara, I appreciate the offer, but 'Rapid Dough' sounds like the last thing I would like to experience."

"I figured, but you could always give the applications away to someone else. There is a potential for a lot of money to someone who is smart, lucky and...a little bit sneaky."

"I'll keep it in mind. So, shall we join Kevin and Dad?"

Barbara stalls answering by sipping coffee.

"Barbara...?"

"I suppose we must."

"Okay, what's wrong between you and Kevin?"

"I'm not sure I should say..."

"Did he propose?"

"You knew?"

Dylan nods. "Kev told me his plan yesterday. I'm guessing you turned him down?"

"Of course I did."

"Barbara, don't you love him?"

"Yes, I love Kevin. How can you doubt that?"

"Then...? Is this because of Hi and his many failed marriages?"

"That's part of it - okay, a big part. And growing up, all of my friends came from homes that had gone through a divorce. Lots of them like me endured multiple divorces and strained relations with half-siblings. I made up my mind a long time ago that marriage is an antiquated, doomed concept that will eventually die out - and good riddance too. In my life I have only seen a handful of truly successful marriages like Mom and Step-dad. As far as I'm concerned, marriage is the first step in destroying love. Kevin knows how I feel about this, so why would he spring a proposal on me that was sure to cause us both pain?"

"Kevin comes from a very traditional background. To him marrriage is the natural, inevitable result after falling deeply in love. I guess he thought that after the two of you were together long enough, and had grown confident in your relationship, you would come around to the idea."

A look of great sadness crosses Barbara's face. "I get that Kev is acting on the family values he was raised with, but does that mean my beliefs have no value? I think it's ridiculous to seek a state-issued scrap of paper that says it's okay for the two of us to love each other. All that does is, God-forbid, make it harder and more bitter if we should ever break up."

"Perhaps Kevin sees this as a matter of commitment? He wants to be reassured of your future together."

"Kevin has my heart and my pledge of love - what more does he need? Do I have to surrender my life's beliefs in order to stay together? What sort of future would I have with a man who would demand that of me?"

"Is there no room for compromise?"

"Kevin wants marriage, I don't. If there's a compromise there, I can't see it."

Dylan sighs. "Sometimes in life you have to make some tough choices."

X X X X X

"Grace, stop!"

Grace looks to the doorway and gulps with guilt. "Luke, I thought you were downstairs."

"Obviously. Grace...what are you doing with that bottle of pills?"

"I was only going to take a couple."

Luke closes the door, goes to Grace and grabs the bottle of pills. "Sleeping pills? Where did you get these?"

"I-I took them from your parent's medicine cabinet."

"Grace..."

"I know, I know. I'm lower than dirt, but I have to do something! I've been laying here for over an hour trying to fall asleep, but I can't. My mind won't stop racing. I keep thinking about the Alvarez girl that died, and what might be happening to Friedman's little brother. If I can just fall asleep, maybe God can use me to find Nathan."

"In a drug induced stupor? Grace, considering your family's pattern of addictive behavior, turning to drugs is a really bad idea - one I'm sure God wouldn't approve of."

"How can we be sure? It never occured to us when we were experimenting with this astral travel ability it might cause a kid her life. Maybe this one time I need to take whatever risk that has to be faced."

Luke examines the bottle. "This is a fairly strong prescription...and it expired nearly two years ago! No, I won't allow this."

Grace stands and faces Luke. Her voice goes low and gritty. "Won't allow?"

Luke puts the bottle of pills in his pocket. He stares at Gradce with equal determination. "Won't."

Grace frowns, trying to face Luke down, something she can normally easily do, but her heart isn't in it. In the back of her mind she knows he is right. Grace sighs. "But...what are we suppose to do?"

"I think this one of those times we have to trust God. I suppose all we can do is pray and believe."

"Pray?"

"And believe, God can handle this."

Grace nods and the two of them kneel by the bed. For the first time as a couple, Luke and Grace pray together.

X X X X X

The drive from Pansy's motel to the Friedman house on the other side of town didn't take long, but Pansy filled every moment with details about her life. Born in 1844, turned vampire against her will in 1899, she has spent the last 108 years living in the shadows of life. Low paying jobs, constantly having to move from city to city to avoid suspicion and a never-fit-in relationship with other vampires has left Pansy a lonely, sad person. Joan can sense the misery of Pansy's existence. No friends, no family, no roots and an abhorance for what she is has made Pansy a true outsider to life. Their conversation on the drive is probably the longest Pansy has had with anyone in years.

Their arrival shortly after mid-day is well timed by Joan. The TV vans are pulling away after having done a live report for the noontime news, and only a couple of uniformed officers remain to guard the crime scene - with one exception. Adam's new girlfriend, the San Francisco reporter, is still waiting outside the Friedman home, talking to the cops and occasionally checking her phone. Crap. Distracting the cops would have been relatively easy for the police chief's daughter, but Joan knows Cindy Thomas is sharp and always hungry for a story.

"Wait here until I give you a signal." Joan says as she leaves the pickup.

Pansy, seeing the cops, ducks down out of sight. Joan walks up to the police and is glad that they are a pair that she knows.

"Afternoon everyone, how goes it?"

The cops smile and the one with corporal's stripes replies, "Hello Miss Girardi, good to see you again. Looking forward to being the next mayor's daughter?"

"Absoulutely, as long as my old friends on the force don't forget me, Corporal Moore. Cindy, I'm a little surprised to see you here. You're on Christmas vacation and this isn't even your town."

"My editor got the wire report about this story and remembered I was in Arcadia. He's not the type to let a little thing like being on vacation interfere with getting a story. What about you, Joan? What brings you here?"

"I'm an old friend of the eldest son, Theodore Friedman. I just came to offer my support. It looks like you're the last reporter here. Any luck?"

Cindy shakes her head. "The family won't issue a statement or answer questions. I've been talking to neighbors and the police, but I really don't have what I need for a story. Looks like I'll be here a long time."

Joan forces a smile to her face. "Maybe I can help. Excuse me a moment."

Joan walks away and calls Friedman on her phone. She explains the need for a distraction without going into details. A couple of minutes later, Friedman comes out of the house and joins the group.

"Cindy Thomas of the San Francisco Register, this is The Friedman."

Friedman positions himself so that the two cops and Cindy have their backs to Joan's truck. Joan gives a hand signal and Pansy rushes from the truck and around to the back of the Friedman house at a speed no human could come close to matching. Joan lingers back as Cindy interviews Friedman, watching for Pansy's return. It only takes a couple of minutes for the vampire to return and get back into concealment in Joan's truck. Joan nods her thanks and gives Friedman a thumbs-up. Joan gets in her truck and drives away...

"How did you do?" Joan asks

Pansy replies, "Better than I thought. It would have been easier if I had been here earlier in the day."

"Earlier in the day there was a crowd of over a hundred people, including cops, reporters and nosy neighbors. Can you track the kidnapper?"

"Yes. He wears witch hazel as an after shave, has a pine scented air freshener in his car, which has a small oil leak, and he's carrying a gun that was recently oiled. Best of all, the boy suffered a small scratch as he was being taken from the house. I have the scent of his blood. That I will never miss."

"Then point the way."

X X X X X

"Hey, you're wearing an Arcadia High letterman's jacket." Karen Casper says as she gets in Dylan's car.

"You know Arcadia High?"

"Yeah, I went there briefly - very briefly. I was kicked out after two days."

"Wow, were you a juvenile deliquent in your younger days?"

"Not really. My Dad was out of town looking for work, and I was living in a shelter for the homeless. That's when I met Snow White."

"Snow White?"

"That's what I called her. Some crazy white girl who showed up at the park one day and wanted to jump rope with me."

"Jump rope?"

"This will be easier if you stop interrupting."

"Sorry."

"Anyway, when Snow White found out I was homeless and not in school, she faked an enrollment by using a gas bill from her home as proof I lived in the Arcadia High district. It might have worked out okay, but Price caught on."

Dylan nods. "Yeah, I had a couple of run-ins with Mr. Price. He's dead ya know."

"I had no idea. What happened?"

"Shot by a student."

"Now why doesn't that surprise me? Anyway, right after that my Dad finally found a job through a old army buddy of his and we moved out here."

"Which worked out well for me. I've really enjoyed meeting you, Karen."

Karen smiles. Even though they exchanged contact information yesterday, she didn't have her hopes up that this incredible looking guy would call, especially on Christmas. Still, his choice of destinations...

"Are you sure you want to go to a closed mall?"

"Yes. You're certain your friend in security can get us in?"

"There are only two guards on duty today, and Maria is in charge. She was curious as to why you wanted inside. Me too."

"I can only tell you the same thing I told my Dad when I cut out early from our Christmas gathering. I can't shake the feeling I saw something yesterday and it was important. I just don't remember what."

"And you want to review the security footage? That shouldn't be a problem. Maria said the entire security staff got a butt chewing for messing up yesterday. Half the security crew was watching a harmless actor while some perv walked off with a kid. They've been reviewing the security footage ever since trying to find what they missed. I'm sure they will welcome a fresh set of eyes."

"I only pray I can be of use."

X X X X X

"Something smells good." Will Girardi says as he enters the kitchen from the den.

"Roast goose, which I'm hoping will turn out okay. I've never cooked a goose before." Helen says.

"Cooking your own goose? There should be a joke in there somewhere." Will says as he pours himself a fresh cup of coffee.

"I've already checked on-line, and we can replace your old cup with an exact duplicate. In fact, we can photoshop in Eleanor so that it will be up to date."

"Good. Speaking of our youngest, she is sleeping peacefully in the playpen."

Helen smiles. "A Christmas miracle. I am worried about her though."

"Is this more about that silly stuffed bunny?"

"I know it can seem trivial to us, but 'Bun-nee' is more than a toy to Annie - he's a friend. She doesn't understand why her friend has been taken away and it's making our granddaughter very unhappy."

"We could give it back..."

Will and Helen both hesitate as they contemplate the consequences of that action. Eleanor would cry, and that was no trivial matter either. When E.T. cried, it was long and very loud and never stopped. She would cry until she turned red in the face, and then cry more. She would cry until she was gasping for breath and getting sick, and then cry more. She would continue to cry until through exhaustion, Eleanor wouldn't fall asleep - she would pass out. It was a horrifyingly scary thing for a parent to witness, and Will and Helen have learned to do anything to avoid setting off that deluge of tears.

Helen adds, "The sad thing is that Eleanor doesn't care at all about Bun-nee."

"Then why is she suddenly so posessive of the thing?"

"Jealousy. For months Eleanor has been the center of attention in this house. You, me and Joan have devoted ourselves to Eleanor, and she soaks it up. Now Annie is here, so adorably pretty and smart, and of course we start focusing on her. This makes Eleanor feel insecure and she responds on an instinctual level by trying to get back at her niece. Getting Bun-nee was the reassurance Eleanor needed to feel secure again. I hate that Annie is the one suffering for this...but I have to put my own daughter first."

"Causing a strain between you and Grace."

"You've noticed too?"

"That less and less you're 'Mama Girardi' and more and more you're 'Helen'? Yeah, I noticed."

"I hate this. Grace and I got so close after she married Luke and spent last year here with Annie. Now...?"

"Give it time, Helen. Luke, Grace and Annie will be going back to Boston next week and we won't see them again until spring break. By then all of this will have blown over, and with the kids...you can count on them growing out of this as the years pass."

Helen smiles weakly. "I hope so. I'd hate the thought of Eleanor and Annie being jealous rivals for the rest of their lives."

"Hard feelings amongst the Girardis? When would that ever happen?"

"Well, your sister stopped speaking to your father the day your parents got divorced. You've virtually ignored your half-borther Richard most of his life..."

"It was a rhetorical remark. The point is, in time Eleanor and Annie will be the best of friends."

"I pray you're right."

X X X X X

In the security office of the Westward Mall, Dylan and Karen stare at the vast array of monitors covering the entire complex. Karen's friend Maria brings up a requested scene from yesterday...

"Okay, here is the scene just outside the Circuit City a few minutes before eleven. There you are Dylan, looking into Harper's Sporting Goods' window."

Dylan stares at the image, absorbing every detail. "Is this the only view you have showing Circuit City?"

"No, we have another angle that more clearly shows the exit." Maria says as she brings up that image on another monitor with the same time stamp. "We can advance this frame by frame. There, you're starting toward the Circuit City...and you hesitate, looking at your watch."

"I wanted to be sure I wasn't letting time get away from me. I was suppose to pick up my sister shortly after this."

Maria adds, "Okay, we can speed this up a little bit and see mall security springing into action the moment the Amber Alert is made..."

Dylan calls out, "Wait, go back slowly... There, freeze it. Now, can you show me as I was looking in the window of the sporting goods store?"

Maria brings up the two requested images side-by-side.

Kaen asks, "What's so special about this? The missing boy isn't even visible."

Dylan responds, "Now I know what I saw. When I was looking at the sporting goods store's window, I could see in the reflection the entrance to Circuit City. Notice the old guy in the blue track suit going into the store?"

Maria says, "What about him? It's just a little old man with long grey hair and anti-glare sunglasses going into Circuit City in his wheelchair."

"Now compare it to the image of him leaving the store."

Karen says, "The old guy looks asleep and some Good Samaritan is pushing his chair for him."

"He looks the same, complete to the same powder blue track suit, but notice the shoes. Going in he's wearing white sneakers, but coming out he's wearing black ones."

Maria says, "But the guy pushing the chair is wearing white sneaks! Son-of-a-bitch, that's the Bartlett kid in the wheelchair disguised as the old man. That's how the kidnapper got him out of the mall! We have to call the police."

Dylan says, "Yes, and maybe it would be a good idea if you took full credit for this discovery, Maria. It might help you with your employers."

Maria smiles. "Thanks, I'll do that. Hey Karen, hang on to this one. He's one of the good guys."

X X X X X

Northwest of Arcadia there is an old, and once vast horse farm owned by a family named Putnam. Now elderly and retired, the owners spend their winters in Florida. Although much of the farm has been sold to developers, the very impressive 'farm house' remains. It is available for short term leases during the winter. Joan reads this information on her phone as she waits for Pansy's return. Joan is parked on an old side road about a quarter of a mile from the house. The white truck blends in well with the white background of the rapidly melting snow. Joan looks up as Pansy approaches...

"Tell me there's good news."

"Good and bad. The boy is alive but heavily drugged. They have him strapped down to a table in a room that has been completely covered in plastic sheeting. There are 13 daggers in the room. In the dining room, there is a gathering of 13 people having a cocktail party - very black tie. One woman and twelve men are talking about politics and money and even sports while they are planning to... Will they really kill that poor boy?"

Joan can feel the outrage filling Pansy's being. For a vampire she has led a remarkably sheltered life. "At sundown. It's a satanic cult, and when the time comes, they will each stab Nathan once with a dagger. Is there any security?"

"Four men armed with high powered rifles. Two at the front gate and two patrolling around the house. Joan, why would these people do this terrible thing?"

"It's their idea of honoring their master, the devil. Today billions of people are honoring the birth of God's son and the sacrifice he made to save humanity from the consequences of their sins. These people seek to desecrate the day by the death of an innocent in honor of the originator of sin. All true satanic cults are obsessed with the number 13, which is why they limit themselves to that number in each chapter. It's also why they insist on a virgin sacrifice who turns 13 on Christmas day."

"I recognize some of the people in that room. They are important leaders in society - company CEO's, politicans, a federal judge..."

"And they are all about to go down for kidnapping and murder." Joan says as she returns to her truck. She removes from the glove compartment a cell phone and an electronic device. "The cell is a disposable so they won't be able to trace it back to me. This gizmo is a scrambler that will distort my voice recognition pattern. It's amazing what spygear you can get at some electronic stores."

"You're calling the police anonymously?"

"The sheriff's department, but they'll be up to speed on the case..." (Joan holds up a hand.) "Yes, I want to report that I saw the missing boy who was on the news... That's right, Nathan Friedman. I'm a hundred percent sure I saw him in a car that just entered the property at 11707 County Line Road. That's right, the old Putnam place... My name? I'd rather not get involved, but you should come quickly. And deputy, they're heavily armed so be careful."

Joan disconnects and breathes a sigh of relief. "Now all we have to do is wait safely from a distance for the calvary to arrive."

"If they make it on time."

Joan looks at the position of the sun in the sky. "Plenty of time."

X X X X X

The initials R.P. That's what Dylan noticed on the wheelchair, and he continues to play his hunch that nothing in this matter is coincidence when God is involved. This all started with Surfer-dude God on the beach in Malibu, and he found similar beach sand in the office of 'Anton Schwartz', the kidnapper. After dropping Karen off back at her home (and making a date for lunch tomorrow), Dylan has travelled to Malibu. A new wheelchair can cost thousands, but why buy one when a day rental will do? After a quick internet search, Dylan has found the only place in Malibu that rents wheelchairs and has the initials 'R.P.' A small, independent drug store called Russell's Pharmacy.

As Dylan pulls into the parking lot of the drugstore, he is not surprised to see that it is closed. However, in true Mom & Pop fashion, there is an apartment in the back. Dylan knocks and the door swings open almost immediately. The man standing there is around sixty with grey hair and a full beard. Behind his glasses, his eyes twinkle with merriment and there is a big smile on his face. The smile disappears when he sees Dylan.

"Please tell me you're not from Pam's Pacific Pleasures."

"No sir."

"That's a relief. I definitely ordered a chick. Don't get me wrong, you're a handsome dude, but I don't swing that way."

"Uh sir, are you Mr. Russell?"

"Russell is my first name... Hey, you're not a cop or D.E.A. are you?"

"No sir, I'm a college student, pre-med."

Russell smiles again. "A future doctor? Never too soon to begin a professional relationship. Come in, come in."

Dylan enters what is the kitchen of the apartment. There are a lot of festive holiday decorations, and a punch bowl on the kitchen table.

"We will have to transact our business quickly. One of Pam's girls will be stopping by soon. Pam runs a hell of a Christmas special. A hot Asian dish come to your place, serves a meal and then gives you an amazing massage with a very happy ending. God bless us everyone." Russell says with a laugh.

"Sir..."

"Call me Russell. Can I offer you a refreshment? How about an Xmas Zombie?"

"I don't know what that is."

Russell pours a drink into a tumbler and produces a couple of pills from his pocket. "You take one of these red pills and one of the green ones, washed down with a double shot of Peppermint Schnapps. Guraranteed to give you the merriest Christmas you'll never remember."

"Pass."

Russell shrugs and swallows the pills, followed by the drink. "Waste not want not. Can't I offer you anything? You're bringing down my Christmas buzz. How about some punch? Pure fruit juice."

"Uh, sure."

Russell pours a cup of Christmas cheer for Dylan and himself. They clink glasses and Russell downs his drink in one swallow. Dylan follows suit and immediately begins to sputter and cough...

"Oh my God, what was in that?"

"I told you, a mix of the freshest, purest fruit juices. I've got one of those machines that lets you make your own juice."

"There was more in that than juice."

"Well, I thought it understood the vodka was a given. So, with the pleasantries out of the way, what are you here to buy? Something to keep your eyes open during those long hours of study? Maybe something to take away all of the stress? I've got a combo of pills that will make you a really mellow fellow. I should know, I'm a professional pharmacist." Russell says as he drinks another cup of punch and fills his glass one more time.

Dylan sighs. Despite the man's jovial smile and thorough enjoyment of his drug-hazed lifestyle, he couldn't help but feel sorry for Russell. "Actually, I was interested in your wheelchairs."

"Chair, singular. I have a small shop, and the only way I stay in business is by giving lots of personal service to my customers, such as rentals of crutches, walkers and the wheelchair. There's no money in it, but it keeps customers loyal. And you're in luck, my only chair was returned yesterday afternoon. You'll have to have a Malibu address."

"Then you know who rented the chair and where they can be found?"

"Of course, it's all in my computer. Wonderful things computers. They bring you close to your suppliers, there's porn...and, oh yeah, they help me run the business. Why do you want to rent a wheelchair?"

"I don't. I want to know who was the last customer to rent that chair."

Russell shakes his head. "No. I never reveal my customers' business to anyone. That's one of the services that keeps me in business."

Desperate, Dylan responds with the first idea he can think of. "I'll pay you."

Russell smiles hugely. "My boy, you have restored my faith in the youth of America."

"How much?"

Russell shrugs. "Since it's Christmas, I'll go light on you. I hear knocking, so that must be the girl from Pam's Pacific Pleasures. Pay for her services, and we have a deal."

"I don't have that much cash on me."

"Lucky for you, Pam's takes all major credit cards."

A deal is struck and minutes later Dylan is leaving Russell's Pharmacy, glad to be out of the place. He is also glad that he now has control of his inheritance, and no longer has to run credit card charges by his father. He would never be able to explain two thousand dollars for a Christmas day hooker.

X X X X X

Joan, using binoculars, and Pansy who doesn't need the assist courtesy of her vampire senses, watch as a single sheriff's department car pulls up to the front entrnace of the Putnam farm. A sole deputy exits the car and speaks to the two men on security detail at the main gate. The three have a brief discussion and then the deputy returns to his car. A moment later, it drives away...

"What the hell?" Joan moans.

"The men at the gate produced secret service credentials. I don't know if they were real, but they convinced the deputy." Pansy says.

"You were able to hear that, all the way from here?"

"Away from the background noise of the city, I can hear conversations as far as a mile away. The guards claimed they were providing security for a private meeting between diplomats and State Department officials - all very hush-hush."

"No wonder the deputy left. No cop wants to get mixed up in a diplomatic immunity matter. Damn!"

"What will you do Joan? Call your father?"

Joan looks at the setting sun. "I could, and I'm sure I could convince him to act, but it would be too late. By the time Dad organizes a response team of Arcadia cops and gets this far out in the county, Nathan will be dead. I have no choice, I'll have to go in."

"Joan, there are four armed guards outside and thirteen cultists inside. You don't stand a chance."

"I can't just stand by and let those horrible people murder another child. Will you join me?"

Pansy backs away. "I've never done anything really violent, and I've heard from other vamps that getting shot hurts like hell."

"Maybe so, but no bullet can kill you. I on the other hand..."

Pansy shakes her head. "These people are satanic cultists. They probably know all about vampires, including how to kill us. I'm sorry."

Joan sighs and says no more. She climbs the fence and begins her approach to the farmhouse, staying low to the ground and hoping to avoid being seen. Softly Joan mutters under her breath about her bad luck - being stuck with the world's most cowardly vampire...

X X X X X

Dylan walks along the beach, trying to look casual. The address on Russell's computer was very familiar. It is only four houses down from Hi Greyson's home, and is the house he and Surfer-dude God were in front of when he got this assignment. After parking at Hi's place (explaining that he was going to search the beach for a lost cell phone), Dylan has been trying to decide what to do next. Hi explained that the house where Dylan thought he had lost his phone belonged to a very rich retired movie producer who used it only occasionally. The rest of the year it was available for rental at very high prices. Debra, Hi's wife, added she had seen several limousines arriving at the house earlier in the day.

What to do? According to the research Dylan has done on satanic cults, they supposedly sacrificed virgins at sunset in honor of their chosen master, the devil. Proprerly he should call the police. He still has the business card given him by the elderly police detective who interviewed him yesterday, Lt. Provenza. But what could he say that would convince the police to act? They wouldn't raid a multi-million dollar Malibu mansion without some hard evidence.

Of course he could tell them about the wheelchair rental, but how could he explain his leap of logic that brought Malibu and Russell into this? 'Yes Lieutenant, I'm an instrument of God and I've been following the hints he laid out for me.' They would either lock him up for being crazy, or dismiss him as too pathetic to listen to. Now on his third casual stroll by the beachfront mansion, Dylan decides he has to act. If he can spot something, anything out of the ordinary, then he can make a report to the cops that might stir action.

Moving cautiously, Dylan approaches the mansion. He notices that all of the window shades are drawn on the lower level. Only the sliding glass doors on the deck level are uncovered. Knowing he faces possible arrest if he is caught, Dylan climbs the stairs to the deck, which is deserted. Dylan takes a quick peek into the house and ducks back, hoping he wasn't seen. A party? There were no Christmas decorations, but well-dressed, obviously wealthy people are enjoying drinks and canapes. Maybe he has got this wrong? He was expecting black hoods, candles in abundance and a varitey of satanic symbols. This looks so ordinary...

Suddenly Dylan feels something metallic jammed into his side and a voice behind him snarls... "Give me any trouble and I'll blow you away."

X X X X X

The guard never saw it coming. Joan's blow is swift and well practiced, but unlike the snowmen from yesterday, the guard's head doesn't go flying off. Joan recovers the guard's fallen weapon - a .30 caliber carbine - and familiarizes herself with it. She has never had to kill before and isn't sure she can pull the trigger on someone. It seems she will have no choice.

Joan works her way to the window of the dining room and glances in. She thinks she recognizes a couple of the people in the room. The one woman is wearing a designer gown that probably costs more than her truck. Time to move on, the sun is about to set. But before Joan can move, she hears a name that catches her attention...

"Finally, we have an offer from Hobart Smith..." says one of the men.

"Who?" the woman asks.

"Use to call himself 'general' back when he ran the Brotherhood of Blood. We use to sell him arms during his heydey."

"What does that use-to-be want?"

"Through the usual channels, he has passed on to use a unique opportunity. He says he can give us, with all necessary proof, a genuine instrument of god."

Chuckles go about the room.

"As if there was such a thing." the woman says nervously.

"We've all heard the rumors of their kind. Rumors that go back hundreds of years. If it's true, what an amazing chance to serve the Master. Imagine the reward due us if we could make a ritual sacrifice of such a being?"

"How much?"

"The opening bid is 20 million, but I'm sure we could negotiate that down to half price."

"For that kind of money, Smith's proof had better be iron clad."

"We will make certain of that. And now I see the time is almost upon us. Time to change into our protective gear. We wouldn't want to get blood on any of our garments."

With that, the council of 13 drift out of the dining room and climb the stairs to the bedrooms above in order to change. Joan goes to a side door, and using one of her lockpicks, opens it quickly. Moving silently, Joan hurries to the room Pansy indicated for her. It is a small room, possibly used as a sewing room in an earlier time. Every inch of the room is covered in plastic sheeting and there is a small side table holding 13 very sharp daggers. In the center of the room is a metal table with an unconscious and naked Nathan Friedman on it. Even though heavily drugged, the boy is firmly strapped down.

Joan goes to the table and begins to loosen the straps, but she senses danger from behind. She whirls about, raising the carbine, but too late. Joan receives a sharp blow to the head and slumps to the ground. Groggy, Joan would try to fight back if there was only one man to deal with, but the other three guards have her covered with their weapons.

"Call the chairman, tell him we have a problem..."

X X X X X

In Brentwood, a nervous John Hunter looks out the front window of his house. Barbara notices and places a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"It's not like you to be so worried about Dylan. After all, he was just meeting a girl."

Dr. Hunter nods, pretending to believe the excuse Dylan gave. How many other such excuses has he accepted without thought? Is Dylan safe? Will he see his son again? John has been praying steadily for Dylan's safe return...

"I know it's silly of me to worry so much. Dylan is a grown man..."

"But he will always be your son. I'm actually surprised you didn't make a bigger fuss when Dylan cut out of here so early."

"I guess it was the mention of the girl. Dylan has been so sad and lonely lately. Ever since..."

Kevin, entering the room, joins in. "Ever since Joan turned down his proposal of marriage. Yeah, I get how that can tear a guy up inside."

Barbara frowns and shakes her head. "We were talking about my brother's problems."

Dr. Hunter says, "Okay, enough of this. What is wrong between you two?"

"We don't want to air our dirty laundry in front of you, Step-dad."

Kevin responds, "Who says? I for one would like John's take on our situation."

Barbara warns, "Kevin..."

"John, this morning I proposed marriage to your stepdaughter. She turned me down. In fact, she seems insulted that I asked. What am I suppose to make of that?"

"Barbara...?"

"Don't give me that look, John. I know how gung-ho you are on marriage, but you also know how much I hate the idea."

"Despite the example Sylvia and I gave you growing up?"

Barbara stares at the floor. "I will always be grateful that you married my Mom and took me in as your own daughter. I couldn't have asked for a better father, and I'm not talking about Hi Greyson. But John, even you must admit that your marriage to Mom was a rare success story. Most people either end up divorced or stay together in misery because they have kids."

Dr. Hunter shakes his head. "I would dispute your contention. Sylvia and I were blessed with a wonderful life, but it wasn't a bed of roses. The two of us worked hard at making our marriage a good one. I loved your mom so much, it always seemed worth the effort, even in the hard times."

"Hard times? I don't remember the two of you having any problems."

"We always did our best to hide any diffficult times because we didn't want our children to worry. I see now that may have been a mistake. We never meant to present to you the idea that good marriages are nearly at fairy tale status. Despite Hi's numerous failed marriages, and those of many of your friends growing up, lots of people enjoy their lives far more as married couples."

Kevin adds, "My parents for an example. They argue, and on occasion they've had some real tough fights, but I never doubted they love each other. I know my kid brother is ecstaticly happy in his marriage, and he and Grace got off to a far rockier start than we would."

Barbara goes to Kevin and embraces him. "Kev, I do love you. I hope you know that?"

"I do, and I'm sorry that I sprang an engagement ring on you knowing how you feel about marriage. I should have approached the subject in a serious discussion about our future. I'm still hoping you will accept, but only when you feel comfortable with the idea."

"I can't guarantee I'll ever get there, but...I am willing to consider the possiblity."

Kevin smiles broadly and then kisses Barbara. The lip-lock continues for a long time, and when it ends, the young couple just hold each other tightly. Barbara whispers...

"Can I keep the ring?"

Kevin laughs and nods. Dr. Hunter breathes a sigh of relief. Now, if only his problem with Dylan could be solved so easily...

X X X X X

In Malibu, Dylan Hunter is tied, bound and gagged. Before all of this, he saw the armed men with their silenced pistols who were guarding the house and this unusual gathering. All of his doubts are gone, because before he was blindfolded he saw the kidnapped boy naked and drugged on a metal table in this small room - a room that is completely covered in plastic sheeting. Dylan knows these people are going to kill the boy at sunset, a few hours from now. He also know he will be killed too. He has seen the faces of all of these people, and they don't seem the type to leave loose ends behind. Silently, Dylan prays as he listens to a conversation between two of the guards...

"Why did you bring him into the house?"

"I could hardly kill him in view of the beach."

"How did you know he had to be killed? Maybe he was just a dumb kid peeking in houses looking for something to steal?"

"He saw the council. Too many of them are well known people. They can't be associated with this house or today's event. Besides, I saw this 'Dylan Hunter' checking out the house today and he was out there yesterday too."

"What do you think he was up to?"

"We found a cop's business card in his wallet. I think what we have here is a genuine amateur detective."

"Then we shold kill him."

"Oh we will, but not until we have interrogated him. We need to know how he found us."

"Think he'll talk?"

The guard chuckles. "When I'm done with him, he'll talk. He will gladly sell his soul to make the pain stop."

X X X X X

"Who is she?"

"Her i.d. says she's 'Joan Girardi', a student at Arcadia College, Mr. Chairman."

The one called 'Chairman' leans down to more closely examine Joan, who is tied up on the floor. "I remember this girl. She's the one that brought down Ryan Hunter."

Another of the council says, "We were thinking of asking Hunter to join us when there was a new opening. Wasn't there something in the news about this girl having delusions?"

The Chairman nods. "Supposedly during an illness, she thought she was having conversations with god. Is it possible...we have found Hobart Smith's instrument of god?"

The woman in the group says, "If so, we have just saved ourselves millions. Should we offer her as a sacrifice instead of the boy?"

The Chairman shakes his head. "No, we can't be sure yet. We will proceed as planned, and later we will have a nice long chat with this, Joan. I will leave it up to your skills Disposer to make her talk."

The Disposer, the guard Joan knocked out, glares at her. "I look forward to it."

"In the mean time, the sun has set and it is time for us to do our duty to our unholy Master..."

Suddenly the glass of the overhead skylight shatters, and Pansy Schubert makes the most dramatic entrance into a room in her life. She is 'vamped out' (eyes gone white, fangs descended and snarling like an enraged animal). With a screech of anger and bloodlust, Pansy charges the group while Joan desperately struggles to free herself...

X X X X X

The sound of the gun is more like a cough due to the silencer. It is followed by several more silent rounds being fired. Dylan hears a scream of pain and the sound of bodies falling to the floor. There is a pause, and Dylan can tell by the sound of the voice, one of the guards has taken cover behind the metal table that holds 13 year old Alan Bartlett...

"Is that really you, Agent 66?"

From the doorway a woman's voice replies, "Hello Dietrich. I thought I killed you in Austria in '93."

"And I heard you died a couple of years later." Dietrich replies as he fires a couple of more bullets.

"You always were a lousy shot. Come out from behind the table, you coward. I never thought I would see you hiding behind a child."

"What can I say, 66? My life has taken some strange twists since the days when our two organizations use to battle each other. Is it true that old fool who ran your agency is still operating as some sort of rogue?" (Another shot.)

"The Chief is as sharp as ever, and if he was such a fool, why is your chaotic little group out of work?"

"As I said, times change. The governing councils still operate as strongly and profitably as always. Only the names have changed. You better run now, 66. My backup will arrive any moment."

"As will mine."

Dylan, lying on the floor listening to this exchange, has identified the voice of the woman as Elaine Lishack, his old science teacher! He also understands the prediciment Lishack, or '66', is in. She can not shoot at Dietrich without risking the kidnapped boy. On the floor like this, Dylan realizes he can reach the table with his legs, and the table is on a central pivot... Dylan kicks as hard as he can, and luck is with him. He makes contact with the table and it turns...

A single shot fires.

X X X X X

Joan runs as fast as she can, her feet slipping in the snow as she carries Nathan Friedman in her arms. The boy is still out cold and has been wrapped in a blanket. Behind her, Joan hears gunshots as the last remaining people in the farmhouse desperately fight for their lives. Joan runs, trying to save Nathan and herself from the horror back behind her.

It has only been minutes since Pansy crashed the party and shifted the odds into Joan's favor. In those first moments of shock, Pansy was able to snap the ropes holding Joan and comment...

"I almost forgot. If you get killed, how will I get paid?"

Then the battle began. Bullets were flying everywhere as the desperate, frightened cultists tried to bring down this creature with hot lead. Joan crawled along on the floor until she reached the plastic sheeted room where Nathan was being held. Working quickly, Joan managed to free Nathan and wrap him in an old blanket while hearing the screams in the next room. Occasionally she heard a howl of pain from Pansy, but clearly the battle was going the vampire's way.

Joan knew she had to get out of there in a hurry. With every life she took, with every body she ripped open for their blood, Pansy Schubert was losing a piece of her remaining humanity. After 108 years of pent up anger, fear and resentment, she was finally becoming a full fledged vampire...

Behind her Joan notes the sound of battle has ceased. Fearfully, Joan looks over her shoulder and sees Pansy in hot pursuit of them. Joan tries to run faster, but Pansy is moving at the speed of a cheetah. Just before Joan reaches her truck, Pansy suddenly leaps in front of her. She is fully vamped out, covered in the blood of her victims and recovering almost instantly from the dozen or more bullet wounds she has received.

Joan realizes Pansy is now lost in blood madness - what vampires call going rogue. There is no turning back from this. From now on, Pansy will kill and kill in an insatiable lust for blood. In her hand is a sword, snatched from the wall of the farmhouse, and it is dripping with blood. The sword is as much decoration as it is weapon, but in the hands of a vampire, it can cleave Joan in two.

"Give me the child and I will let you live." Pansy snarls.

It isn't true - Joan knows that. Once a vampire goes rogue, they never go back. She wants Nathan first because young blood has the best taste and the greatest restorative properties. But after Nathan, Pansy will kill Joan and then move on to other victims. Eventually her killing spree will attract the attention of other vampires, and they will track the rogue down and dispense their own version of justice. But by then, dozens will have died.

Tired of Joan's hesitation, Pansy raises the sword and charges...

To Be Continued. Please Review.


	3. Chapter 3

BOXING DAY

(12-26-07/Wednesday.)

Annie Girardi awakens, yawns and smiles. Since returning to Arcadia she has not had a good night's sleep due to her sharing a room with her aunt, E.T. In fact, despite her great anticipation about returning 'home', she has not enjoyed this visit despite her joy at being reunited with her grandparents and Aunt Joan. Somehow, everyday, E.T. has managed to spoil what would normally be a great time. But this morning is different. She has been permitted to sleep in her parent's bed, and after a good night's sleep, Annie is anticipating a good day.

"Daddy…?"

Luke continues to sleep. Annie tickles his nose.

"Daddy, it's morning."

"Hmm?"

"It's morning."

"Annie, the alarm hasn't gone off yet. It's still early. Go back to sleep."

But Annie is wide awake and sleep is the last thing on her mind. Maybe Mama would like to get up and play? No, better not risk it. Sometimes Mama is grumpy until she has that brown liquid that seems to perk up her day.

"Daddy, is it another holiday?"

Luke keeps his eyes closed, but responds, "No Annie, the holidays are over for awhile… Well, actually this is a holiday in some countries like England, Australia and Canada. It's called Boxing Day."

"People box?"

Luke opens his eyes and sees his daughter holding her tiny hands in closed fists with a look of curiosity on her face. He can't help but smile.

"No, it was a tradition where the wealthy would give things to their servants like clothes, money and food, all placed in a box."

"Like yesterday's presents?"

"Sort of. It was a way of making it up to the servants for having to work on Christmas day."

Grace mumbles, "What are you two talking about so early in the day? Jeez, the sun is barely up!"

"Grace, you're awake. That means you finally fell asleep. Did you…ya' know?"

Grace shakes her head. "No. I was ready and available, but nothing. God, I hope this doesn't mean something has already happened to Friedman's kid brother."

Annie comments, "Yah-Yah says the boy is okay."

Grace sighs. "It is much too early for this. Annie, from now on, nothing about 'Yah-Yah' until I've had my coffee. Okay?"

Luke nods. "I agree. Annie, be a good girl and lay back down for awhile. Your mom and me would like to get a little more sleep."

"Yes Daddy." Annie says as she snuggles between her parents, but she knows she will not sleep. For fun, Annie begins silently counting the ceiling tiles.

X X X X X

Helen Girardi leaves the attic bedroom where she has just finished changing Eleanor. She pauses at an odd sound that is coming from Joan's room. Helen is a little surprised her daughter is in the house. Usually by now, she is off training with the gigantic angel that is invisible to everyone but Joan. Helen gives a light tap on the door and peeks in. She is startled to see Joan in a fetal position on her bed, softly weeping.

Helen goes to the bed and hugs Joan. "Joan honey, what's wrong?"

Joan goes into her mother's arms and quietly receives a supportive hug. Joan continues to weep as Helen strokes her daughter's hair.

"Joan, please tell me what's the matter."

Joan gulps back her tears and replies, "Mom, last night…I had to kill someone."

"Oh God, Joan…are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Joan, was this part of an assignment? Did something go wrong?"

Joan nods. "It was because of the rescue of Nathan Friedman."

"Rescue? Then young Nathan is alright?"

"Yes, he's home safe and sound. Last night I called Friedman and had him meet me near his house. I handed off his brother and Friedman was going to put Nathan back in his own bed. The sedatives the boy received should be wearing off, and he will awaken with a day missing but no worse for wear."

"Joan, that's marvelous good news. Did the person you…killed, have sometyhing to do with the kidnapping?"

Joan shakes her head. "No, this was someone on my side."

"An accident?"

"She was a vampire named Pansy Schubert…"

"Joan, are you sure this wasn't just a bad dream? There's no such thing as vampires…right?"

"Vampires are real."

Helen shudders. "And they are here in Arcadia?"

"No, Arcadia is too small to support a community of vampires. Pansy was…passing through town. I persuaded her to help me. Well, actually I bribed her to help me find Nathan. All of a vampire's senses are heightened, except for taste. They can only taste blood."

"Joan, I don't know anything about vampires, but wasn't it dangerous to go near one?"

"Not for me, not usually. My spiritual shield protects me from their touch."

"The same way demons can't personally attack you, but have to use people to do it?"

"The same. All vampires are condemned by God, I'm not sure why, and any that touch me go down screaming in pain. A foretaste of what awaits them in hell."

"If half of what I've seen in movies about vampires is true, then I can understand why God condemns them."

"Only some of the movie stuff is right. The vampires I've met come in a wide variety of levels of…evil. Most truly are blood-sucking monsters, but some retain a lot of their humanity and they try to live a life separate from the traditional way of hunting people for food."

"And this 'Pansy', she was one of the good ones?"

"She was, until she met me. Pansy helped me track down the group of satanic cultists that kidnapped Nathan. They were going to sacrifice him to the devil at sunset. I tried to get the cops involved, but that fell through and time was getting short. I went in to try to save Nathan, but failed. Those cultists were going to kill me and Nathan, but Pansy showed up to save the day."

"Then…why did you kill her?"

"Pansy spent her vampire years in quiet seclusion, never using her power to kill people. In that situation she finally had to let go and give in to her vampire nature. All of that blood, all of those lives taken, drove her over the edge. Pansy went rogue, a state where all of her humanity was gone. She would never have stopped killing if I hadn't...taken her out."

"Joan, it sounds like you had no choice."

"I guess I didn't. I was carrying Nathan in my arms when Pansy attacked me with a sword. She wouldn't have had to touch me using that, and there was no way I was quick enough to avoid her attack. So, I tossed Nathan at her. I knew the snow would cushion his fall, and the distraction allowed me to touch Pansy. For awhile, she would be helplessly screaming until the effect of my touch wore off."

"That's when you killed her?"

Joan nods. "I put Nathan in my truck, and got a stake and the fireplace lighter I had with me. First I staked Pansy in the heart…"

"How horrible. That's what killed her?"

"No, contrary to the movies, a stake through the heart only paralyzes a vampire. I could have left her like that to starve to death, but that seemed too cruel. Besides, if anyone found her and removed the stake… I had to kill her. There are only two ways to quickly kill a vampire – beheading or fire. I set Pansy on fire using the lighter. I could see the fear in her eyes, the silent pleading, but I burned her anyway. Oh God, I'm as much of a monster as she ever was!"

Joan resumes crying as Helen holds and comforts her. "Joan, I know this was a terrible thing to go through, but what choice did you have?"

Joan sighs. "None, I guess. At least it was quick. Vampires burn fast. It took less than a minute before she was a pile of ashes and tiny bone fragments…" (Joan shudders.) "Pansy died because she helped me. I owe her my life, and I repay that debt by killing her. Why does everyone around me die?"

For a long time Joan cries while Helen holds her, wishing she had an answer.

X X X X X

In Malibu California, Dr. John Hunter shakes his son's shoulder…

"Dylan! Dylan, wake up."

Dylan Hunter begins to stir. The first thing he is aware of is a throbbing pain in his head, and a sense of disconnection to reality. Dylan has never been drunk, but he easily imagines this is what a hangover feels like. Dylan opens his eyes and looks about. He recognizes he is in the back seat of his own car, which is parked in the driveway of Hi Greyson's Malibu home.

"Dad…?"

"Son, are you okay?"

"I…think so. What am I doing here?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing. I'm going to check your vitals."

There is a pause as Dr. Hunter opens his seldom used medical bag. He checks Dylan's pulse, blood pressure and examines his son's eyes.

"Your breathing is regular, pulse is steady but your blood pressure is a little elevated. Not in the danger zone though. Your pupils are dilated. How's your vision?"

"Clear. My head hurts like hell. Dad, I don't remember what happened."

Dr. Hunter sighs. "Dylan, have you been using drugs?"

"What? No, of course not…" Dylan pauses as he remembers his encounter with Russell, the generous with all narcotics and booze, pharmacist. Is it possible? Did that crazy old man drug him?

"Dylan…?"

"I'm remembering something from…yesterday? Is it the twenty sixth?"

"That's right. Yesterday you came to Hi's house and said you were going to search the beach for a lost cell phone. The same cell phone that's in your pocket."

Dylan concentrates as fragmented memories try to surface. "I think I remember that. Just before driving here I met an odd man who gave me a drink that I thought was just fruit punch. It must have been spiked with something really strong. After getting here, it's all a blank."

"When you left the house yesterday, you said you were meeting a girl."

"Oh yeah, Karen. She's really pretty." Dylan says with a smile.

"Was this Karen with you during this time?"

"No, I dropped her off at her apartment before I came to Malibu."

"Do you remember why you came to Malibu? I know you were still very concerned about that boy who was kidnapped."

Dylan stands and sways. John Hunter steadies his son. "Yes, the Alan Bartlett boy. I…had a hunch he was somewhere in Malibu. I have to…"

Dylan takes a step and collapses in his father's arms.

"Easy son, I've got you. Dylan, you don't have to worry about the boy. I heard on the news as I drove here that 'Alan' was found sleeping in his own bed. The police have no clue as to how he got there."

Dylan nods briefly, the pain reminding him to keep his head steady. "That's great news. Dad…why are you here at Hi's house?"

"When you failed to return for your car, Hi became concerned. He searched the beach until nightfall, but found no sign of you. He called me and told me what was happening. I tried to file a missing person's report with the police, but you hadn't been gone long enough. Then, in the middle of the night, Hi checked your car and found you asleep in the back seat. I came as soon as I heard."

"Thanks Dad, I'm sorry I worried you and Mr. Greyson. I wish I had an explanation as to what happened to me. Am I going to be alright?"

"You seem to be recovering quickly. I'm sure there's no danger. When you are feeling better, I will have a stern lecture about not accepting drinks from dubious strangers."

Dylan smiles weakly. "Yes sir."

X X X X X

At the Las vegas airport, Spencer Reid takes his seat on the first plane out to Washington D.C. He quickly checks his phone before the instruction to turn off all electronics. His phone was a bone of contention yesterday during his Christmas 'celebration' with his mother. Everytime he got another update on the kidnappings, she added another complaint ('I don't know why you bothered to come when you're really still at work.").

The latest update from Garcia confirms an earlier report - both kidnapped boys mysteriously found in their own beds with no knowledge of what happened. Traces of sedatives were found in the boys' blood. No report of the missing girl in L.A., Tanya Jones, but presumably she suffered the same fate as the Alvarez girl in Arcadia...

That thought triggers a memory of Joan (and despite the nature of the material he is reading) Spencer can't help but smile. What is it about Joan that fascinates him so intensely? True, she is beautiful, but the attraction goes far deeper - it is almost a spiritual connection (if you believe in such things). Spencer acknowledges to himself that he is not only eagerly looking forward to their New Year's Eve date, but a potentially wonderful relationship with Joan...

With a sigh, Spencer returns to the information on his phone's screen. Garcia has been thorough, as usual. Researching a never before thought of catagory - kids turning 13 on Christmas day, Garcia has found records of two or three such kidnappings every year stretching back as far as the F.B.I.'s records go - to the 1930's! With a chill running up his spine, Spencer realizes Joan's Halloween day statement to him that satanic cults are real has been proven true. (At least to his own satisfaction.) These cults exist and are generational in nature. Spencer starts to dial Joan's number to get her take on all of this...

"I'm sorry sir, but we are about to take off. All electronic devices must be shut down."

"Of course." Spencer replies as he realizes with a blush he really just wanted to hear Joan's voice.

X X X X X

In the Brentwood section of Los Angeles, a white delivery van is parked in the shade nearly a block away from the Hunter household. In the back of the van there is a sophisticated mobile command center where a spry old man of 80 and Elaine Lishack watch a monitor that shows John and Dylan Hunter entering their home...

"Satisfied, 66? I told you the effects of the truth serum wear off quickly. Young Mr. Hunter is already walking on his own."

Elaine nods. "Thank you, Chief. I had to be sure. I owe Dylan Hunter a huge debt. Without his help, I doubt my pregnancy would have been successful, and I wouldn't have Emily today. You used the same truth serum administered to Joan back on Halloween?"

"The same. This 'Dylan' will have no memory of his interrogation or the events immediately preceeding that time. Other than the small memory loss, there are no permanent side effects."

"I wish I could have been there during the questioning."

"Someone had to lead the team that returned the Alan Bartlett boy to his own bed undetected. Excellent black-ops work, 66. It's good to see you haven't lost your touch."

Elaine smiles. "It was exciting getting back into action."

"You never told me 66, how did you get involved in this matter?"

Elaine hesitates. She doesn't want to get John Hunter involved in this mess. Despite having met him only a few times, Elaine can't deny a deep attraction for the handsome doctor. It is a shame she was pregnant for most of the time Dr. Hunter - John, was in Arcadia.

Elaine lies, "A confidential informant from the old days tipped me off that a former student of mine was involved in something potentially dangerous. As I said, I owe Dylan a debt, so I looked into it. I slipped a tracker on Dylan's car and kept tabs on his activities."

"Lucky for him you did. It must have been hard to slip away from your daughter and her father on Christmas day."

"It only took a simple lie - one of the reasons I left the agency. The need to constantly lie to everyone. I told Dana an old friend from college had just been dumped by her husband, and I was concerned about her being alone at such a time. As a former counselor, Dana was fully supportive of me being there for 'my friend'."

"He sounds like a good man."

"He is, and I like him a lot, but if we didn't have Emily in common, I would have moved on by now." Elaine says as she once again thinks of John Hunter. His early morning call yesterday had astounded her. He frankly admitted he received prophetic dreams, and he was sure Dylan was in danger. He was also sure only Elaine Lishack could help. Elaine was about to dismiss this odd request when John added: 'Elaine, are you some sort of spy...and does the number 66 have significance to you'?

"Well, it's a good thing you became involved, 66. The 13 people we captured at the Malibu mansion have turned out to be the inner circle of leaders that we have always sought but never before came close to capturing. All due to your Dylan Hunter. He too claims, just like Joan, to be an instrument of God, and he was tracking down these cultists based on clues given him by God."

"Do you believe him, Chief?"

"Under the influence of the truth serum, he has no choice but to tell the truth as he sees it. And...yes, I believe him. Since meeting Joan Girardi and hearing her tale of being God's chosen instrument, I've done a lot of soul searching. I've been reading the bible and even praying. Imagine, at my age, I've found faith."

Elaine smiles. "I'm glad, Chief. I have to admit, since learning of Joan's secret, I've been doing some soul searching too. Did Dylan have a lot of added information that could help us?"

"It was all fascinating to hear, but he doesn't actually seem to be at as high of a level as Joan. As Dylan put it, he is still in spiritual 'boot camp'. Even so, the results have been spectacular. This west coast group is part of many interconnected councils of cultists that are worldwide. There are over a hundred such 'councils', and they have their hands in everything. Criminal organizations, drug smuggling, arms deals, asassinations, and especially terrorism. From this one group we will have enough info to bring down at least a dozen terrorist cells."

"That's wonderful Chief, but it sounds like just the tip of the iceberg."

"It is, but at least we have finally found the iceberg. From what we are learning from the 13 satanic cultists we caught, we will be able to follow their connections back to the various councils around the world. I never thought I would see it in my lifetime. After 50 years of fighting these evil bastards, the begining of the end is in sight. All due to Joan and Dylan. Now, with my life's work coming to a culmination, I can finally retire."

"You're giving up? Chief, there's still so much to do."

"There is, but it's time for someone younger to take over."

"Chief, if this is another bid to get me to take over the agency..."

"No 66, not this time. If my plan goes well, there won't be an agency to take Control of. It's time my people ended their rogue status and rejoined the fold. I'm going to surrender myself."

"Chief...Max, they'll put you in prison."

"I'm 80 years old, my wife and son are dead and my work is done. What does it matter where I spend my last few years? Besides, it may be the price I have to pay to get all charges dropped against those who have remained loyal to me all this time. I will be going to Homeland Security with just enough information to convince them they desperately need the rest. My price will be a blanket immunity for my people. This new generation can carry the ball over the goal line."

Elaine nods and places a hand on Max's shoulder. "Chief, you've given so much to your country, it doesn't seem fair it should end like this. If life had worked out the way it should, you would be enjoying a comfortable retirement on the beach with your wife and Zack and even grandchildren. Max, I'm so sorry I let you down..."

Max shakes his head. "Don't go there, 66. I know you've blamed yourself for Zack's death all of these years, but the truth is I'm the one to blame. I knew he wanted to follow in his father's footsteps, and frankly, I wanted it too. But he wasn't ready for field work."

"I was his partner. I was suppose to keep him alive until he got the necessary experience to make it on his own."

"I picked you for Zack's partner because you were the best, 66. But it was unfair of me to place that burden on you, to force you to take added risks while watching out for Zack. It was my mistake, my fault. At least now, I won't have the burden of making those choices any more."

"And what of Joan and Dylan? Will you be telling Homeland Security the truth about them?"

Max shakes his head. "No. If God chooses to run his own version of a secret service agency, who am I to interfere? I think in the fight ahead, we will definitely want 'Him' on our side. I'll keep the secrets of Dylan Hunter and Joan Girardi."

X X X X X

At mid-day Joan slowly works her way down the back stairs. As much as her conscience is bothering her, she knows she can't spend the rest of her life in her bedroom crying. Joan is surprised to see her father at the kitchen table helping to feed Annie her lunch. Annie is enjoying spoonfuls of tomato soup, a hot dog cut up into tiny bites and some sliced grapes. She waves excitedly as her aunt enters, and Joan can't help but smile back. Will's expression is definitely not so friendly...

"So, you finally decided to make an appearance."

"Dad, I'm surprised to see you here. I thought you would be at work."

"I went in extra early to help with the Nathan Friedman kidnapping only to learn on my arrival that he has somehow been returned home."

"Uh, yeah. I heard that on the radio a little while ago. Where is everyone?"

"Luke and Grace went to the Friedman house to congratulate them on the return of Nathan. Your mother and Eleanor are out in her studio. I'm glad I have a chance to talk to you. Joan, what the hell were you thinking, taking off Christmas morning and not coming back? You missed Christmas dinner, you had all of us in a panic over where you went, and you didn't even have the decency to call!"

"I'm sorry."

"That doesn't cut it. We spent hours calling your phone and getting voice mail."

"I didn't check my messages."

"I had to once again ask my officers to unofficially keep an eye out for my missing daughter. Joan, your behavior has been outrageous. I want, no, I demand an explanation."

"Dad, I'm really sorry I worried everyone. You're right, that was outrageously insensitive of me. If I had it to do over, I definitely would have called to let you know I was okay."

"That is not an explanation. Where were you? What was so important you would abandon your family on Christmas?"

Joan stares at the floor hating to go through this again. She hates the lying, especially to those she loves. For a moment Joan considers telling the truth - all of it. Joan and her mother have discussed this possibility several times, and both have reluctantly agreed it would be a bad idea. Officially agnostic, they know Will Girardi is fiercely angry at God for 'not existing' - at least not in a way he can believe in and accept. They fear it would be a breaking point for Will to be forced to accept not only God's existence, but also the risks Joan takes in his service.

Annie asks, "Grandpa, why you mad?"

The distraction causes Will to calm some. He can't stay angry while his adorable granddaughter is looking at him. "Well Annie, I'm a little upset with your Aunt Joan because she has displayed considerably less maturity than you. Isn't that right, Joan?"

Joan sighs. "Dad, be fair. I know I screwed up, and again I'm sorry, but I'm a 20 year old woman. Don't you think I should be cut some slack on having to check in with my parents?"

"Twenty, forty, sixty or eighty, if you're a member of this family, you will behave like it. If that's too much to ask, then...you know where the door is."

Joan gasps, "Dad, you'd kick me out?"

"I wouldn't want to, but I have to think of what is best for this family. Your mother and I have enough stress in our lives with our careers and taking care of an infant without having you add to that stress."

'Dad, I help out with E...with Eleanor all of the time."

"And we appreciate that. You've been a great help Joan, but that doesn't excuse your shameful behavior."

"Shameful?"

"What else am I to think when you can't answer a simple question? Were you drinking again?"

"Dad...no. You know I stopped."

"Then what? Were you smoking dope? Seeing a married man? What could you have done that was so bad you don't think I would understand?"

Joan feels tears forming in her eyes. In another minute she will be crying. Just when she thought this day couldn't get any worse...

Will's cell phone rings. "I have to take this. We are not done here."

Will walks toward the den while answering his phone. Joan sags into a chair, not knowing what to do or say. She has never seen her father so upset.

"Aunt Joan..."

"Yes Annie?"

"Yah-Yah says come to the park. Come now."

Joan hesitates only a moment before rushing to the front of the house. She grabs her coat and hurries to her truck. How much madder can her Dad get?

X X X X X

In their Venice Beach apartment, Barbara helps Kevin on with his jacket and opens the door...

"Do you really have to go into work, Kev?"

Kevin smiles. "Since we don't resume the shooting schedule until next week, a certain second assistant director may have nothing to do, but yours truly has two scripts to finish and a production meeting to chair."

"That's what you get for making yourself indespensible. Don't forget, you're scheduled for a four o'clock physical therapy appointment."

"Yes ma'am."

"I'm serious. No more skips."

"I promise." Kevin says as he fingers the engagement ring Barbara is wearing around her neck on a chain. "You know, this would look so much better on your finger."

"But then everyone would think we were engaged."

"Would that be so horrible - being engaged to me?"

"The problem with engagements is that they lead to weddings, then marriage, followed by kids, I get fat, you cheat on me and then comes my murder trial. Hardly worth it."

Kevin chuckles. "How fat would you get?"

Barbara playfully smacks Kevin's shoulder. "Kev...we're okay, right?"

Kevin responds by giving Barbara a long, passionate kiss. "As long as I know you love me, that's all I need."

"I love you with all of my heart."

"Then let's get engaged."

Barbara sighs. "Kev, honestly, you're like a dog with a bone."

"Hear me out. You put that ring on your finger, and we agree to the world's longest engagement. Say...ten years? If by then we are still happily in love, we get married."

"Ten years?"

"Unless you want to make it sooner."

"No, ten years sounds about right." Barbara says as she removes the chain and puts the ring on her finger. "It does look nice there. But how are we suppose to explain a decade long engagement to people?"

"With good humor and patience. So it's official, we're engaged?"

Barbara chuckles, finding the situation difficult to take serious. "You're relentless. Okay, we are 'technically' engaged."

"Then 'technically' I'm thrilled. I love you Barbara, my beautiful fiancee."

They kiss again.

"Okay my 'betroved', have a good day at work. Meanwhile, I'll start shopping for my wedding dress." Barbara laughs.

"You laugh now, but just wait. I'll see you in that wedding dress one day."

A smiling Kevin exits and Barbara shakes her head. If there was one man who could overcome her disdain for marriage, it was Kevin Girardi. Who knows, maybe in ten years she really will be ready to... The phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Barbara, I'm glad I caught you. It's Dr. Wilhelmus."

Barbara feels a twist of fear in her guts. Last week she had her annual physical. It is not a good sign when a busy doctor calls you personally with the results.

"Doctor...is this about my check up?"

"Yes. The good news is that all of your test results came back normal."

"And...the bad news?"

"Bad? Oh, sorry, I phrased that wrong. The great news is that you're pregnant!" (Pause.) "Barbara, did you hear me? Barbara...?"

X X X X X

Joan arrives at mid-town park and goes directly to the brick circle center for the third day in a row. There she sees Old Lady God sitting on a bench. She has a thermos and a couple of cups with her and a covered cake pan. Joan sits beside her.

"Annie said 'Come now' so I hurried as quickly as I could."

"There wasn't that big of a rush, Joan." Old Lady God says as she pours Joan a cup of cocoa and offers her cake - angel food cake.

"Thanks.' Joan says as she sips the cocoa and tries the cake. "Hey, this is really good."

Old Lady God chuckles. "You haven't eaten since yesterday, and I thought you could use a little pick-me-up. Try dunking it. The cake is really good that way."

Joan obeys and soon finishes her first piece followed by a second and then a third. Joan sighs, content. "Wow, I really needed that. Did you just send for me to feed me cake?"

"No, mostly I wanted to give you and your father a break to let things cool down. The two of you were on a collision course where things might have been said, where a line might have been crossed, that you could not go back from."

"But I love my Dad, and he loves me."

"Yes, but sometimes a person can go too far and damage a relationship - even with someone they love."

"I'll have to face him again tonight, and he'll be madder than ever."

"No, Will's conscience shall bother him for the rest of the day. He is already regretting having spoken to you so harshly that it 'drove you out of the house'. Tonight, calmer heads will rule."

"I hate having to lie to my Dad. Can't I tell him the truth?"

"Joan, you know you have free will in this matter, but remember what I said the first time we discussed telling someone the truth."

"That it's a burden asking someone to believe. I think...it would be a very heavy burden for Dad. Right?"

"Yes. The timing is far from ideal. Later in his life, Will may be more open to our little secret."

Joan nods. "Okay, I'll take that hint. But still, I hate the lying."

"Then find a way to answer your father without telling a lie."

"Like the fact that I'm a...murderer?"

"Joan, you are not a murderer."

"But I killed Pansy. I burned her alive!"

"Yes you killed her, but that is no more murder than if you had killed a rabid dog that was threatening the community. Remember, she was already condemned."

"About that, I have to know. Why? Why are all vampires condemned? I know most of them are blood-sucking monsters, but some are pretty decent with a lot of their humanity intact. Like Mick St. John, the L.A. detective I met and Pansy before she went rogue saving me. Can't you make a few exceptions?"

Old Lady God sighs. "I will try to explain. Do you remember the account of the meeting between my son and the one known as Legion?"

"Uh yeah, Jesus and his disciples landed on a remote beach and encountered a man that people today would call a lunatic. He was very violent, went about naked howling at the moon and liked to cut himself. When he encountered Jesus, he introduced himself as 'Legion' because there were so many demons in this one man. Legion begged not to be cast into hell and asked if they could instead be sent into a nearby herd of pigs. Jesus agreed and the demons went into the pigs."

"And do you remember the pigs' reaction?"

"They all ran off a cliff into the sea and died."

"Clever animals, pigs. They were smart enough to know that it was better to give up this mortal existence rather than live demon possessed."

"What has this got to do with vampires?"

"Do you recall Mick's description to you of how a person becomes a vampire?"

"Sure. A vampire drains the victim's blood until they are at the point of death. Then the vamp forces his blood down the victim's throat. If it's timed out right, the victim begins the transformation to a vampire. If timed out wrong, they die."

"That is the vampire perspective. From the spiritual perspective, the victim has a choice. Every person who faces that moment has a point of absolute clarity - leave this mortal existence or become, as you put it, a blood-sucking monster. All of those who die do not expire because there is a flaw in the process. They choose to be at least as smart as pigs."

"So that's it? One bad choice and it's over?"

"There are some lines that when crossed, you cannot go back. Step off a cliff and you fall, no matter how much you regret your choice."

"But...someone like Pansy, she lived a simple, non-violent life until she had to save me and Nathan. Doesn't that count for something?"

"Pansy Schubert managed to repress her true nature for a long time, but trust me Joan. What you saw last night was the real Pansy Schubert come out of dormancy. It was only a matter of time. And as for your friend Mick, I told you at the time that he has done unspeakable crimes of violence against others. It troubles him, but he is still very capable of doing it again."

"So Pansy is in hell?"

"No, she sleeps until the day of judgement."

"No hope?"

"Let's call her and Mick borderline cases. If a person of great faith were to pray for mercy..."

"Every day, I promise."

"Then we will see. Your phone is about to ring. Director Dunn is calling with concerns about the 'clean-up' you stuck him with." Old Lady God says as she stands.

"About that, are you mad at me because of the deal I made with him concerning my cousin Simon?"

"No Joan, not mad, but a little disappointed. I know you did it because I could not give you an absolute guarantee of Simon's safety without violating your cousin's free will. But can you give such a guarantee yourself?"

Joan's phone rings.

"Your other master calls. Issac Dunn can be useful, but be careful Joan. He is a clever and ruthless man who 'thinks outside of the box'."

Old Lady God walks away, giving the backhand wave. Joan watches her leaving for a moment before answering her phone...

"Hey, I.B."

"Joan, I want an explanation, and I want it now."

"Wow, you sound just like my Dad. Explain what? I would think what you found at the farmhouse was self-explanatory."

"Yes, yes I've been reading the F.B.I. traffic on this mess. Thirteen very prominent people who were secretly satanic cultists who apparently were sacrificing children every Christmas...shocking. I personally knew half of those lunatics."

"So did I err in calling you to handle the clean-up? It seemed like the kind of scandal Homeland Security would want to avoid. You know, shaking the public's confidence in their leaders in time of war..."

"I have no problems with you calling on me about this. But Joan, how did you get involved, and what happened to those people? They look like they were torn apart by a pack of lions."

"Pride."

"What?"

"It's a pack of wolves or a pride of lions. And I won't be giving you any details, I.B."

"Joan, we have a deal..."

"I remember the deal clearly. In exchange for keeping my cousin out of the war, I agreed to work for you any time you needed me. There was nothing about you gaining access to my personal secrets. You don't have anything to offer that could pry that out of me, I.B."

"I could have your cousin Simon in Afghanistan or Iraq by tomorrow."

"And you would lose my services. Is that what you want...Director Dunn?"

Joan hears Dunn's phone slam down as he disconnects. "I'll take that as a 'no'."

X X X X X

"Thanks for the ride, Barbara."

"No problem Dylan, I had nothing better to do today. So run this by me again. You accepted a drink from some weird old guy and you think he drugged you?"

"It's the only explanation I can come up with for my memory loss."

"Otherwise you're okay?"

"I took a nap as soon as I got home, and now I feel completely back to normal. I'm just glad I woke up with time to make my date with Karen."

"Step-dad couldn't drive you?"

"He had to go into the office this afternoon to see a couple of patients suffering from post holiday blues. This shouldn't take too long. Karen only gets a half hour for lunch from her job, so we'll be eating in the food court. Uh, about that..."

"Don't worry, I won't play third wheel. I can do some shopping while you have your date. After that, to my Dad's house to pick up your car?"

"Yes please."

"So, this Karen, do you like her?"

"Enough that I know I'll be asking her out on a regular date this weekend."

"Good for you, Dylan. It's time you got on with your life."

As Barbara drives toward the mall, she wonders about what is ahead for her life. Pregnant. Oh God, how did this happen? She and Kevin were always so careful about birth control. One thing they both agreed on, no kids in the immediate future. They were each only 23 and worked impossibly long hours. There was no time for a kid, especially now that her career was finally begining. If she goes through with this, the burden of child care would fall on her and there would go her career hopes for at least the next few years. If she goes through with it...

Barbara desperately wishes she could talk to someone about this, but who? Dylan and Step-dad were strongly opposed to abortion, and Kevin carried around a lot of Catholic family values. If she decides to end this, those three must never find out. But she needs to talk to someone... Her real Dad? Hi Greyson had no qualms about abortion, but he wasn't the sort of man you confided deep dark secrets to in expectation of warm, kind advice. He would certainly help after she made the decision, but personal advice wasn't his strong suit. Maybe Debra, her new stepmother? Barbara was closer to her than any of her other 'steps', except for Step-dad. Maybe she will talk this over with her.

They arrive at the mall with plenty of time to spare, and Dylan orders Karen's fast food choice and secures a table. A minute later, Karen Casper enters the food court and quickly spots Dylan. God, he is the best looking guy she has ever seen and she hasn't been able to get him out of her mind. Karen's smile drops when she sees he is sitting with a stunningly beautiful blonde. As Karen approaches, she forces a smile back on her face...

"Hi Dylan."

"Karen, good to see you again." Dylan says as they exchange a polite kiss on the cheek. "This is my sister, Barbara Greyson."

"Oh...sister! It's really nice to meet you."

"You too Karen, but if you'll excuse me, I'm going to face the post holiday sales crowd. See you in awhile, Dylan."

Barbara walks away, but catches Dylan's eye. She gives him a thumbs-up. Walking out of the food court area, and to her own surprise, Barbara heads directly for the maternity store...

"You're sister seems nice, and she's really pretty."

"Not as pretty as you."

Karen giggles. "Oh, so we're starting off with flattery?"

"Just stating the simple truth. So Karen, are you looking forward to the resumption of classes? Now that I know we attend the same college, I look forward to seeing you there."

And so begins the date. Between bites of their lunch Dylan and Karen talk about school, their interests, taste in music and movies and other usual first date topics. They both quickly realize the attraction they felt when they first met is more than physical, but there is plenty of that type of attraction too. All too soon Karen is looking at her watch and realizing her break is coming to an end. Dylan notices...

"Before you have to leave, could we agree to see each other this weekend? Saturday night?"

Karen sighs. "Dylan, this is so nice, and I love that you are willing to do the long, slow romantic seduction. I would really enjoy getting to know you better, enjoying all of those 'firsts' like first real date, first kiss, first...grope. It would be wonderful, if I had the time. The fact is, I haven't been with a guy in over a year because there's just no room in my life for dating and romance."

"Oh, then we're not going forward with this?" Dylan asks, genuinely disappointed.

"Don't get me wrong, I want to. Oh how I want to, but my job here ends on Friday. I have another part time job, I have to find a replacement for this one, I help take care of my Dad, and then when classes start, even though it's my last semester..."

"Last?"

"It's the money. If my scholarship hadn't already paid for next semester, I wouldn't be going back. Next year, there's just no money to continue. So you can see, I'll never have the time for a real relationship. But, and I can't believe I'm suggesting this..." Karen falters for a moment, but takes a deep breath and continues. "I've never done this before, but...could we have a one night stand?"

Dylan smiles. "I normally don't believe in casual sex..."

"You must think I'm a skank."

"No, of course not. You're a beautiful, wonderful girl and I understand. It has been a long time for me too, so I get where you're coming from. I guess my original question stands: Saturday night?"

Karen smiles. "Yes! Uh, we can't go to my place because I live with my Dad."

"Me too."

Karen laughs. "Well, aren't we a pair of grown-ups."

"I know a lovely hotel up the coast that would be a very romantic place to spend the night. Room service, a spa, a moonlight walk on the beach..."

"That sounds great. Oh, the time. Call me later?"

"Absolutely."

They share a kiss and with a reluctant sigh, Karen rushes away. Barabra, just entering the food court notices the kiss and smiles. A successful first date for her kid brother. At least there is one thing going right today. Her visit to the maternity store only caused a deeper conflict within her. Now she can't stop thinking about what it would be like to hold Kevin's baby in her arms.

"Hey Dylan, go well?"

"Very well, and I think I've found someone I want to give one of those applications for 'Rapid Dough' to. She could use the money, and she's certainly smart enough to do well on the show."

Barbara smiles. "Ah, but can she be sneaky enough to win?

X X X X X

E.T. Girardi slowly, quietly crawls forward, carefully stalking her enemy. She has formed a daring plan, risky - her enemy is powerful, but the reward will be great. Timing and stealth are of the utmost importance...

Annie Girardi sits on the floor watching the living room television. Her parents only allow her a limited amount of TV time, and Annie enjoys the purple singing dinosaur. This is Annie's time to de-stress from the pressures of the day by humming along to the songs while enjoying a sippy cup full of milk and two lemon cookies. The program is half over and Annie's cup is half empty as she reaches for the last cookie on the paper plate beside her... No cookie. Annie looks about - did it slide off of the plate? Then Annie sees...HER. E.T., with the cookie firmly clamped in her mouth, crawls rapidly into the den.

"My cookie! E.T., come back here!"

Annie tries to leap to her feet, but tumbles backward. She is walking pretty good now, but rising rapidly or running are still new to Annie. She tries again, struggles to her feet and takes off in hot pursuit of her cookie...

In the den E.T. implements the second part of her plan. Her primary servant is on the couch reading a book. Normally E.T. would use the time consuming method of crying to get her servant's attention and reaction, but now time is of the essence. E.T. has noticed her servants trying to get her to imitate certain gestures, and this could be the time difference she needs. Now to test that theory...

Indulging in a 'guilty pleasure', Helen is busy reading a trashy romance novel when she feels a tug on her pants' leg. She looks down and sees Eleanor holding up her arms. This is new behavior. Smiling with delight, Helen reaches down and lifts Eleanor up to her lap...

"Hey sweetie, did you want to sit with Mama?" (Helen frowns.) "Eleanor, where did you get that cookie? You didn't find it on the floor, did you?"

Helen examines the cookie but doesn't try to take it away. It looks perfectly clean. Meanwhile, E.T. is busy devouring her prize. She soaks the cookie's edge in her mouth and then crushes the soften cookie with her fist, followed by licking the crumbs from her fingers. It is a surprisingly efficent method. Annie enters shouting...

"Give it back! That's my cookie!"

E.T. hugs close to Helen, trembling.

"Annie, stop."

"Grandma, E.T. stole my cookie!" Annie says as she tries to grab the cookie.

E.T. trembles more (but doesn't stop eating the cookie).

"Annie, no! Get back, you're scaring the baby."

Annie reluctantly obeys, feeling frustrated and outraged. Grace rushes in...

"What's going on?"

Annie points and accuses, "Mama, E.T. stole my cookie!"

E.T. seems to quiver with fear (but keeps eating).

Helen calls out, "Annie, that's enough! Stop scaring Eleanor!"

Grace loudly responds, "Helen, stop yelling at my kid!"

"Stop your kid from scaring mine!"

(Two mothers square off against each other...)

"Annie has a right to be upset. E.T. stole from her."

"Eleanor! Her name is Eleanor. Why do you keep calling her E.T.?"

Of course the proper answer would have been: those are her initials. But Grace, tired of holding her tongue over all Annie has had to endure on this visit, blurts without thinking...

"Because she looks like a little alien?"

Helen and Grace both gasp at the same time. Helen can't believe she would ever hear such words from someone she once considered another daughter. Grace winces, appalled that she would say such a thing to any mother about her child, let alone to Helen. Too many months of her and Joan joking about...Eleanor.

"Helen, I am so sorry..."

Helen shifts Eleanor to her shoulder and turns her head away. She knows the world considers her daughter ugly, and it breaks her heart. Even years from now, when plastic surgery has corrected to some extent the floppy ears, huge nose and deeply receeding chin, Eleanor will never be viewed as more than mediocre in looks. How long will it be before her youngest comes to realize how the world sees her and grows to hate looking at herself in the mirror?

Annie, realizing the people she loves are angry with each other, offers: "Mama, E.T. can keep the cookie."

Helen begins to softly cry. Grace sighs, knowing this cannot be resolved now. She picks Annie up and heads for the kitchen. Grace knows she will profusely apologize again and Helen, for the sake of the family, will go through the motion of accepting. But Grace also knows she has crossed a line she can't go back from. Never again will Helen accept 'Mama Girardi' from her...

Annie, watching over her Mama's shoulder, sees E.T. triumphantly waving the half eaten cookie. Yah-Yah always tell her not to hate anyone, but right now Annie finds that hard to do. E.T. makes her so mad she'd like to...to...what? Annie has never had a violent thought and doesn't know how to form one, but if she stays around E.T. she fears she will learn. The adults around her always tell Annie that she is smart and will one day be a thing called a 'genius'. Annie realizes something the grown ups have missed. E.T. is also very, very smart.

"Mama?"

"Yes baby?"

"I miss home."

"Me too Annie. Me too."

Helen, holding her baby close, continues to quietly cry. This is new behavior to E.T. and she interrupts her cookie eating - not out of concern but curiosity...

"Ma-ma?"

Helen's tears stop. She smiles at her daughter's first word.

E.T. resumes eating the cookie.

X X X X X

In his Beverly Hills office, John Hunter is making notes on the last patient of the day. It has only been a half day at work, but John is glad it's time to go home. The intercom...

"Dr. Hunter, you have a visitor. Ms Elaine Lishack?"

"Send her in."

Moments later Elaine enters and Dr. Hunter quickly crosses the office and gives Elaine a hug of greeting.

"Elaine, thank you, thank you! I don't know what or how you did it, but I'm sure Dylan is alive because of you."

Elaine, a litle surprised by the hug, leans closer to John Hunter. My, he's remarkably fit and of course handsome and distinguished. Elaine sighs just a little when John breaks the hug.

"John, you give too much credit. I hardly did anything."

They sit side-by-side on the couch. John holds her hand.

"I won't press you for details. I'm just happy my son is alive and well. Although, there is a memory loss...?"

"Is there?" Elaine asks with a sly smile.

"Okay, I get it. Top secret stuff."

"John, about that. It's the reason I'm here..."

"You want to be sure I will keep your secret. You have my word. I may not be a retired spy, but I know how to keep secrets, and I fully trust you with mine."

"That you are a man who receives prophetic dreams?"

"Yes, ever since I was a teenager, and that's a secret I've told to only a very few people."

"Then we are agreed to keep each other's trust. I retired a long time ago and the government set up this 'Elaine Lishack' cover for me to keep me safe from old enemies. I'm literally trusting you with my life."

"You will see that trust is justified."

Elaine smiles, feeling secure in John's word. She must be getting soft in her retirement. There was a time when she trusted no man's word, no matter how handsome he is. "Well, I don't want to intrude on your time, and I need to get back to my daughter."

They stand and walk toward the door. "You're staying at the home of your child's father?"

"Yes, Dana Tuchman. I don't think the two of you ever met?"

"No, he left Arcadia High a few months before I arrived in town. It must be difficult to maintain a relationship with the two of you being on opposite coasts."

"Oh, as to that, Dana and I are no longer a couple. We tried to maintain a relationship when I visited last summer, but after I returned to Arcadia, Dana met someone else. Now Emily and I stay in the guest room while the new girlfriend watches me like a hawk."

John doesn't know why, but this makes him smile broadly. Of course Elaine is a lovely woman... "I suppose it only makes sense for you to seek a...'companion' closer to home."

Elaine smiles back. "I wish it were that simple. During the school year I'm so busy, and having a young child tends to deter most would-be suitors. If there are any. As my thirties advance, the pool of potential suitors seems to be drying up."

"Nonsense. You're a beautiful, sexy woman..." John pauses, blushing. "Sorry, that was inappropriate of me."

Elaine laughs, "On the contrary, it was good to hear for a change. It's a shame you still don't live in Arcadia. I believe I would make a play for you."

John smiles again. "And it would be successful."

A moment of pure sexual attraction arises, and both bask in this rush of feelings and hormones. The smiles linger as they both realize they haven't stopped holding hands.

"You know, I will be in town for a few more days..."

It is a clear invitation. John realizes he has been lonely and putting off getting on with his life. Last summer he broke up with Felicity Brewster after Joan Girardi drove a lust demon out of Felicity. Their relationship had been built on the lies of the demon, and once Felicity was free, they realized they had little in common. Since then, no one...

"It wouldn't be too awkward if we were to...go out together?"

Elaine recognizes a euphemism when she hears one. "Dana and I are just friends now. I'm free."

"Tonight then?"

Elaine responds with a kiss and John Hunter takes her into his arms...

X X X X X

Joan enters the Girardi house just before dinner time. She has been staying away in the hopes of avoiding her father and any confrontation. Surely he won't start something in front of everyone else...will he? Joan sees the table has been set, but before she can sit down Helen speaks...

"Joan, Will is waiting for you in the den. He says we are to hold dinner until he has had a chance to speak with you."

"Oh crap... Sorry. Does he seem mad?"

"He seems...serious. Are you okay, honey? I mean...what we talked about earlier?"

"I'm better. I guess I have to face the lion in his den." Joan says with a sigh.

Joan notes the doors to the den are closed for a change. Apparently this serious conversation will also be a private one. Okay, I am not going to lie this time. Joan knocks and enters. Will rises from behind his desk and comes to Joan, giving her a hug.

"I'm sorry I spoke so harshly to you."

"Dad, it's okay. I had it coming."

"We still have to talk."

Joan nods and walks over to the fireplace, staring into the flames. "I know you want answers. I owe you the truth, but honestly, I don't want to tell you what I was doing yesterday."

Will frowns. "You're going to stonewall me?"

"No. I don't want to tell you because I truly believe this is something you don't want to hear. But I'll speak if we can make a deal."

"What sort of deal?"

"I will begin to tell you the whole truth, but if at any point you want me to stop, say so. If I stop, you can't have me start again, nor will I have to answer any more questions. Deal?"

Will hesitates, recognizing a manuever, but he supposes that whatever Joan has to say, he can endure hearing it all. "You already are sounding like a lawyer. Okay, deal."

"Yesterday, I broke the law..."

"Stop."

Will stares at Joan, wondering and desperately wanting to ask questions. But no, he is a cop (at least for a few more days) and he doesn't want to be put in the position of having to cover up his daughter's crime (whatever it might be) or to arrest her. Will just hopes that it isn't something too serious and that Joan has covered her tracks well.

Joan smiles. "I love you too. I'm starving. Can we eat?"

Will nods and they head for the dining room arm-in-arm.

Dinner...

Awkward. Grace and Helen have gone through the ritual of the apology and acceptance, but there is clear tension with them. The few words that pass between them are formally polite. Luke also is tense after having heard Grace's confession about what transpired between her and his mother. He doesn't like being in the middle like this, especially since Grace is now insisting that in the future they will alternate Arcadia visits between here and her parents' home. He isn't going to fight Grace on this, for Annie's sake if for no other. Will and Joan exchange the occasional awkward glance, but they at least know they will be okay. Annie, sensitive to the feelings of those around her, is just sad. Why did she have to make such a fuss over a cookie? Is this her fault?

The only good news is Helen's announcement of Eleanor's first word. This at least puts a smile on everyone's faces. Joan's phone rings and she does a quick check of the caller i.d. She smiles...

"Please excuse me, but I have to take this."

Joan walks away quickly, greeting her caller. "Spencer?"

"Joan, I'm sorry I didn't have a chance to call sooner. I hope this isn't an awkward time."

"This is a wonderfully timed moment to drag me away from some family tension, if you know what I mean."

Spencer thinks of his own awkward relationship with his mother. "Yes, I am familiar with the phenomenon. I would have called earlier, but I got tied up with work the moment my plane landed. Have you heard about the Christmas kidnappings?"

"As a matter of fact, I'm friends with the Friedman family, so yes I've been keeping an eye on that. Great news about Nathan's return...but did you say kidnappings - plural?"

"Yes, an almost identical situation occured in Los Angeles. Another boy who turned 13 on Christmas day was found mysteriously returned to his own bed."

"Huh, freaky coincidence." Joan says as she wonders if John Hunter caught that assignment.

"The Behavorial Analysis Unit is trying to profile the time of person who would do such a thing. I had a few surprises to spring on my colleagues when I revealed this has been going on for decades."

"Oh really?" Joan tries to say with perfect innocence.

Spencer laughs. "Not even close to fooling me, o' psychic consultant for Homeland Security. It was your hint last Halloween that sent me down this path of investigation."

"A lucky shot on my part. So, did you call just to talk shop?"

"No, sorry for the tangent. I actually wanted to talk about our date. My friend Morgan...do you remember me mentioning him?"

"The one who was teaching you how to pick up chicks?"

"I don't believe that's quite how I phrased it. Anyway, Morgan has a couple of extra tickets for the New Year's Eve dance at the Hotel Panamanian in D.C. Would that be acceptable?"

"Something fancy?"

"Yes, definitely black tie and formality, but Morgan says it is a fun occasion. If you prefer something in Arcadia...?"

"No, this sounds great. It's been a long time since I had an excuse to get all dressed up for an occasion."

"Wonderful. I can pick you up and have you back that same evening, no problem."

Joan, remembering Spencer's slow, ultra cautious method of driving, responds, "That would be silly. It's much too far for you to drive. I'll meet you there and drive myself home."

"If you prefer. I'll tell Morgan yes on the tickets and text you the details."

"Looking forward to it. 'Bye-ee'."

Joan disconnects and returns to the table smiling broadly. The family stares with open curisoity.

Joan sighs, "Okay, if you must know, I have a date New Year's Eve."

Everyone breathes a sigh of relief, knowing how Joan has struggled since the death of her fiance, Jimmy Tubbs. The inquistion of questions begins...

X X X X X

Back in her apartment, Barbara Greyson is doing some on-line research about abortion, pregnancy, child care, etcetera. She changed her mind about confiding in her new stepmother (who is only two years older than herself). She remembered Debra is a Christian, and you have no idea how one of those people will react on the subject of abortion. Barbara has been flip-flopping back and forth on this subject all day. The only decision she has made is to keep this matter a complete secret until she can make up her mind. A life long supporter of a woman's right to choose, it never occured to Barbara how tough this choice is when you have to make it yourself. She feels like she is being torn in half. Her logical side is telling her to do the sensible thing. Think of your career and how a baby could ruin that. Maybe, ten years from now, she and Kevin will be married and ready for a kid, but not now! But, Barbara's emotional side tells her to think of how wonderful it would be to have Kevin's son in her arms... Son? Somehow she knows, it will be a boy. Oh God, how can I know that?

The phone rings. "Hello?"

"Hey babe, just wanted to let you know I just got back from physical therapy. I've been a good boy."

Barbara laughs. "Glad to hear it, 'Good Boy'."

"I have about an hour's more work to finish up and then I'll be heading home. What do you say we go out to celebrate our technical engagement?"

Barbara hesitates. Kevin means some place fancy, which would mean wine with dinner. "Sounds great. You know what I'm in the mood for? Some big ol' greasy burgers and Cokes."

"Really? And I thought you were the health conscious one."

"Hey, you have to indulge once in awhile or life gets dull."

"Couldn't agree more. See you soon. Love ya."

"Love you too."

Barbara hangs up and wonders if she just made a decision about her future? No, she's only two weeks pregnant and has plenty of time to decide. In the mean time, she will hedge her bets and avoid alcohol...and maybe get some prenatal vitamins. She still has time.

X X X X X

Joan Girardi hurries through the mall, eagerly headed for a dress shop that carries a wide variety of elegant gowns. Joan can't stop smiling. It has been a long time she she has been shopping for a new dress...and oh, new shoes! Joan is determined to find something sexy. Something that will knock Spencer for a loop. She has to hurry though, the mall will only be open for another hour.

"Joan?"

Joan turns and hesitates a moment before smiling at a somewhat familiar face. "Noah Beaumont? Wow, it's been a really long time. And hey, look at you. The last time we were together you were shorter than me. Now you must be four inches taller. Impressive growth spurt."

Noah, Joan's loyal follower during the days of her war with Ryan Hunter, looks at Joan with confusion. "Deja vu? Joan, we've had this exact conversation."

"We have? When?"

"On Halloween night at Arcadia High. Remember, I was looking for my missing date and you were with Ms Lishack..."

Confusion crosses Joan's face, but then a memory comes to the surface. "Were you dressed as a skeleton?"

"Yeah. How could you forget? I mean, we were in the midst of...six dead bodies."

Joan nods. "Now it's coming back to me. Sorry Noah, my memory of that night is really hazy. I only recall bits and pieces of what happened."

"Due to stress?"

"That and huge amounts of alcohol."

"Oh. Yeah, it was a pretty horrible thing to experience. I guess I can understand getting drunk after seeing something like that. I know I'm still having nightmares about that night. Lots of the kids at Arcadia High are still troubled by it and are in counseling. Especially Roberta."

"Roberta?"

"Roberta Morrison, my date from that night. She...changed after that. Roberta has always been a little moody, but after what happened, she's gone...dark."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Are the two of you still dating?"

"Not really. I'm trying to stay her friend because I feel sorry for how troubled she's become, but dating isn't part of her life now. In fact, nothing seems to interest her any more. Her grades have nose-dived, she has stopped taking part in any activities and she's dropped all of her friends. The school is giving her counseling, but so far it hasn't seemed to do her any good."

"The poor kid. She's lucky to have a friend like you."

Noah shrugs. "I'm trying, but I don't know what else I can do to help. I gave her a ride to the mall, and I'll have to hurry now. We're suppose to meet at the main entrance in a few minutes."

"Good luck Noah, and it was great to see you again. Again."

Noah and Joan part company, he to the front entrance and Joan in the pursuit of shoes. On the second level, looking down from the balcony, Roberta Morrison has watched the exchange below. She recognizes Joan Girardi, 'town hero'. The bitch daughter of a royal bastard. Roberta wonders for a moment if she should kill Joan too? Nah, she must stay focused on her target. Will Girardi, the man who murdered her father and got away with it. The man who even received an award for killing a father who was just trying to reach his daughter for a last farewell before being thrown back into prison.

Roberta knows her father was flawed, but as he always said: 'Life never gave me a break'. Certainly not at the hands of Will Girardi. She was eleven when her Dad was killed by Girardi slamming a car into a pole. For half of her life Dad was behind bars and she only saw him on visitor's day, but she knew he loved her more than his own life. When he got out on parole, it was the happiest day of her life. Then, after only a month, the tiniest infraction of the rules was sending him back inside for ten more years. Never got a break.

In the four years since then, Roberta has been a child of 'the system' because her grandmother, and only other relative, died shortly after getting the news of her son's death. Damn you Girardi, that's two lives you owe me. On Halloween night, during the horror of seeing that gunman shoot down six people in front of her, it suddenly dawned on Roberta how easy it is to kill. With that came an overwhelming hatred of the man who took her father from her and the need to settle the score. Like a gift from God, the means was placed in her hands. The revolver of the slain security guard became hers.

For two months Roberta has been contemplating where and when she will kill Girardi, using this 'gift'. Certainly she has had ample opportunities, like shooting him in front of his own house, or following him to the coffee shop he goes to for lunch a couple of time a week (where he receives free pie for some reason). But no, Girardi murdered her father in private, and his death should be as public as possible. Still, there is the matter of punishment to consider...

There are extra harsh penalties for anyone who kills a police officer, and even though Roberta is only 15, she knows she can be tried as an adult for killing a cop. As much as she wants Girardi dead, Roberta doesn't relish the idea of spending the rest of her life behind bars. But again, God/fate or whatever has provided. In an 'open secret', all of Arcadia knows Will Girardi will be resiging his post as chief of police in order to run for mayor. The big announcement will be before a large crowd of supporters on January first. Perfect.

Roberta has cleverly laid the groundwork for her defense. For many weeks she has been playing the role of the poor troubled teen, traumatized by witnessing a horrific act of violence, driven mad by grief over the deaths of her last two family members and aroused to a moment of insane passion by publicity for the man who killed her Dad - who could blame her? Clearly the courts will see her as a troubled child who needs help. If she is lucky, she will face no worse than psychiatric confinement until she turns 18 - by then, she will have had a 'miraculous' return to sanity. Yes, her revenge is worth that price.

Roberta heads downstairs to join Noah. With a smile, she mutters to herself, "Six more days, Girardi. On New Year's day, you die."

THE END

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